


my heart beats for you

by GoldieHawn



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Depression, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, Protective Mickey Milkovich, Psychosis, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:54:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29780598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldieHawn/pseuds/GoldieHawn
Summary: Ian is breaking apart; Mickey is the glue that holds him together.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 36
Kudos: 152





	1. Chapter 1

Usually, when Ian was headed towards a depressive episode, Mickey could tell. It slowly gets worse and worse until he’s hit rock bottom. At first he’d start to smile less. He’d stop cracking his awful jokes that Mickey can’t help but laugh at. He’d start to doze off in conversations, go to sleep earlier. Then he wouldn’t be able to eat, or talk. Eventually he’d be stuck in bed, unable to move. Mickey is always there to catch him when he falls and he helps him climb back to the top. They never lasted too long, usually a week or two tops. But today is always a new day. Who knows how long the next one could last? Mickey is constantly looking over Ian’s behavior, paranoidly overanalyzing. He’s convinced himself that if he’s able to catch the warning signs, it won’t be so bad when he breaks. Mickey knows them all at this point. He’s able to clock when something is wrong faster than any Gallagher could blink their eyes.

Ian has been doing well though. He hasn’t had an episode in almost a year, which ironically enough, has made the two of them more on edge. Ian was convinced that he wasn’t allowed to be happy for a certain amount of time. He was finally in a good place in his relationship. But it’s been that way for too long… Something  _ has _ to happen, doesn’t it? That’s why when the family is talking together in the living room, Mickey immediately notices that Ian isn’t as in tune to the conversation. The Gallagher’s did this often, especially lately. When the day was dying down and everyone seemed to have made it home, they were all able to hang out with each other for a little bit. Even Lip would come over and join them sometimes. Maybe even an appearance from Kev or V. No matter what the grueling day handed to them, they were able to hit pause on the world and be a family. 

Debbie and Carl were lightheartedly arguing over something stupid. Their voices just got louder and louder over each other. While everyone else was paying attention to the elephant in the room, Mickey looked over to his husband, fidgeting slowly with his hands and looking down. He leaned over towards him, and tapped his shoulder with his knuckle. Ian, not expecting the interaction, quickly lifted his head up, raising his eyebrows.

“You okay?” Mickey checked on him. Overtime, he’s started to do that more often. At first, he felt weird about it, but he eventually realized he didn’t care if he was being too soft. Ian belonged to him, and he was going to play the protective husband role until the day he died. 

“Mhm.” Ian reassured. He didn’t like to worry Mickey. And he knew that Mickey worried a lot more than he should have. So even when he wasn’t feeling the best, he liked to keep it to himself. He didn’t want a caretaker. He didn’t like the constant questions or the pity. He knew Mickey meant well, and he appreciated it, but he just wanted to prove to himself that he could do something on his own. He was beginning to believe he couldn’t.

“You sure?” Mickey always pushed when it came to making sure Ian was okay. He knew his lies all too well. There were moments where it was painfully obvious something was wrong, but he shrugged him off and told him he was fine. Mickey still always asked, even when he knew the answer. It helped Ian have a sense of control. That was part of a long 3am conversation they had. That’s something they didn’t really do before either. Lately, especially since the pandemic, they’ve found themselves communicating a lot more. They’d have conversations that lasted for hours late at night. In this one specifically, Ian was explaining to Mickey how he felt during his episodes. Lack of control was a huge topic of the night. Although it hurt him, hearing about his husband’s awful experiences, he wanted to know. He wanted to understand him the best he could, and he wanted to be able to use it to help him.

“Yeah.” Ian responded with a smirk. “Don’t worry. Just a long day. Shit drains you.” He patted Mickey's shoulder, trying to lighten his mood up. He looked back up to Debbie and Carl, who were still going at it, back and forth, proving that he was engaging with them. Mickey relaxed a bit after that, leaning back on the chair, but still skeptical. 

Less than five minutes later, Debbie turned to Ian, looking for support in her argument. “Fuck that! Ian will agree with me.”

Hearing his name, he popped his head up, considering it was dangling down again. “Huh? What am I agreeing with?” 

“Steelberg is so much better than Old Style, right?” Debbie asked confidently.

“Anyone with any taste in beer will say that Old Style is better.” Carl chimed in.

“Are you kidding? Frank drinks that shit; I don’t want to share anything in common with him.” Debbie argued.

“Put a jar of piss in front of Frank and tell him there’s alcohol in it, he’ll drink it.” Mickey joked, peering his eyes over to Ian, seeing if he could get a laugh out of him. Nothing. 

They all stood there in silence, staring at Ian, waiting for his response.

“Neither. I drink Draft.” Ian finally said, much calmer than everyone else. They all groaned in unison, Ian being no help to the debate.

A bit more of the conversation went by. Ian zoned in and out, contributing here and there. Mickey put his hand over Ian’s knee.

“Franny, you gotta go to bed. Got school tomorrow.” Debbie stood up, pushing at Franny to go up the stairs. Ian stood up with them, rubbing his eyes.

“Where are you going?” Mickey questioned, still sitting.

“I’m gonna go to bed too, tired.” Ian said, not making eye contact.

“At fuckin’ Franny’s bedtime?” Mickey questioned.

Ian turned to his sister. “Debbs, you can stay down here. I’ll make sure Franny brushes her teeth and stuff and get her to bed.”

“Yay! Uncle Ian!” Franny cheered. Ian and Mickey were her favorite people to spend time with, along with Sandy and Frank. She ran up the stairs eagerly, followed by Ian who slowly treaded behind. Mickey shot a worried look towards the stairs until he couldn’t see them anymore.

“He seem off to any of you guys?” Mickey asked the group in front of him. He was met with a bunch of “no” “not really” “no.” Not helpful. Someone else has gotta see this, right?

“Why? Did he say something to you?” Debby asked, sitting back down.

‘Well no, but… couldn’t you tell that- ah fuck it” Mickey let it go, realizing he didn’t really know what to say to them.

“Relax, Mick.” Carl added. “You’re not the only one who cares about him. If something was wrong, we’d all know too.” Mickey felt a little more at ease with that, realizing Carl made sense. 

A couple hours later, Mickey joined Ian in bed. He was fast asleep. Mickey quietly got undressed and slowly slid into the covers, not wanting to wake his husband. He went to get closer to him when he realized that Ian was still fully clothed. Mickey sighed and drifted off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Mickey wakes up to the sound of Franny running down the hallway, having yet another screaming match with Debbie. It’s practically routine at this point. Ironically enough, Mickey usually agrees with the little one. He can hear every word crystal clear, just like everybody else. Screw an alarm, right? Franny has to get up at the same time every day for school and starts arguing with her mother about five minutes in. He rolls over and squints. The sun is blazing through the window, perfectly landing on his husband, who oddly enough managed to sleep through that. The sun perfectly highlighted his hair; strands of fiery locks fell upon his face. He glowed. Mickey liked to count his freckles while he slept. He was so sucked into the view of the peaceful sleeper next to him that he forgot hell was breaking loose on the other side of their bedroom door. But all good things must come to an end.

They needed to do a few drug runs today, but their shift shouldn’t be too long. Mickey pushed himself out of bed, throwing on his camo outfit. He kissed Ian on his forehead and shook his shoulder before he left the room. He didn’t check behind him to see if he had reacted to his wake up call, considering they were in no rush. Mickey exited the bedroom to Debbie over exaggerating a groan. 

“Shut the fuck up. Not everyone wants to wake up and be happy sunshine at seven in the goddamn morning.” Mickey complained, walking down the stairs, not wanting a response from her.

Carl and Liam were already sitting at the table, both eating different things. Mickey pulled out the  _ Fruit Colored O’s _ and a carton of milk. He poured himself some and left it out on the table, expecting Ian to come down any minute. He had finished though and everyone had come down and left the house. Mickey was still sitting there, looking at an abandoned carton of milk; no Ian in sight.  _ Any moment now. _

“Goddamnit, Gallagher.” Mickey moaned as he got up and threw his bowl in the sink that was already overflowing. He walked up to their bedroom to see Ian still asleep. He hovered his body over him and patted his cheek. “Up, firecrotch, c’mon.” Mickey teased. Ian just furrowed his eyebrows and tried to turn over, but he couldn’t because his husband was on top of him.

“Five more minutes.” Ian croaked.

“I gave you five minutes a half an hour ago. Get your ass up.”

“M’tired.” he refused. Mickey got off of him and Ian sighed in relief, thinking that he was going to be left alone. Instead, the blankets were torn off of him. Mickey grabbed him by his arms and yanked him towards the end of the bed.

“I said get up! We have to leave soon.” Mickey laughed at his barely awake husband. 

"What the fuck, Mick?" Ian pushed his hair back. He got himself out of bed and was slowly putting on his camo outfit.  “You suck.” 

“I actually prefer it when you suck, but hey, I say I suck pretty good.” Mickey joked and Ian gave him a half assed smack with the back of his hand. “If you’re moving that slow we're gonna take like double the time we need to.”

“Sorry.” Ian apologized, but still continued to move at the same sluggish pace. “I really don’t feel like doing this today.” he whined.

“We have a shorter shift today, it’s not that bad.” Mickey rubbed his hand on the back of Ian’s neck.

“I’m so tired though…” 

“You can take a nap when we’re done, Jesus. You went to sleep early as hell last night and now you’re the last one up. It’s usually the opposite. Feeling okay?” Mickey questioned. Ian stopped himself where he was and looked at Mickey. 

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m fine, Mick. I’m just exhausted, y’know? It’s like I keep sleeping and when I wake up I feel even more drained.” Ian said nonchalantly. He continued to move, going to turn around, but Mickey stopped him, placing a hand in front of his shoulder.

“That doesn’t sound like you’re fine, E. That sounds like it’s getting bad again.” Mickey worried. Ian let out a sigh.

“Look, we’ll talk about it after our drug runs.” Ian pushed the issue further away. “Let’s just get through this, okay?” Before Mickey could respond, Ian gave him a pat on the back and left the room. Mickey followed him down the stairs to see that he was already headed for the door.

“Umm, hello?” Mickey motioned towards the kitchen when Ian turned to him.

“Right.” Ian came back to him, grabbing his meds. “Forgot.”

“How do you forget something you do multiple times a day at the same time?” Mickey questioned with an annoyed tone.

“I don’t know… Just slipped my mind. Didn’t think of it.” Ian threw back the three pills with a few sips of an abandoned beer from the counter. He made a disgusted face, turning the beer around to see the label. “Flat Steelberg… don’t recommend it.” He turned back around towards the door when Mickey stopped him yet again.

“Dude.”

“What?” Ian slightly raised his voice, getting annoyed at Mickey’s nagging. 

“Eat.”

“I have a headache; don’t want anything. Lets go.” Ian turned around yet again and walked towards the door. 

“You have to eat something.” Mickey said, not moving from his spot in the kitchen. Ian stayed at his spot as well in the living room, turning to Mickey.

“Can you just leave me the fuck alone for five minutes?!” Ian burst out. “Get up. Do this. Take your meds. Eat. Did you do this? This must be wrong with you. Fuck off, Mick, Jesus!” Mikey didn’t say anything. He just stood there. He had his mouth open, wanting to say something, but Ian continued. “Stop ordering me around like I don’t know how to take care of myself. I’m not a kid and I don’t need to be treated like one. Give me some fucking space!” He tugged the door open, letting it hit the wall. He aggravatedly marched out towards the ambulance and climbed in the passenger seat.

When Mickey came outside to meet him, Ian was leaning on the door with his head down, waiting for him to get in the van with him. Mickey got into the ambulance and saw Ian had a tear streaming down his cheek, his face a shade of light red. He still didn’t say anything. He didn’t start the engine either. He put his hands on the wheel to take a moment to think and let Ian have some silence.

“I’m so tired, Mickey.” Ian sniffed. He didn’t pick his head up from the door, nor did his eyes shift anywhere. He was looking straight forward, not necessarily at anything. A couple seconds went by. Mickey didn’t know what kind of response he wanted, if he wanted one. He didn’t know if he wanted to be touched, or left alone, or understood, or helped.

“I know.” Mickey said. He started the van, and their shift started.


	3. Chapter 3

A week had gone by since Mickey and Ian’s last drug run. They did two more after that shorter shift, Ian feeling worse and making it through less and less. After that, Mickey decided Ian desperately needed a break, so he stopped by the Alibi and had an agreement with Kev and V that they could have off for the next two weeks.  _ Cause he’s going to get better by then.  _

Ian had been struggling to get through every day, but still managed with the help of Mickey. The rest of the family had picked up on it by now. They were more scared to say the wrong thing to Mickey than they were Ian because Mickey snaps on everyone about everything when he’s is worry mode.

It was almost 11AM and the couple were catching up on some much needed rest. They were so used to waking up at seven in the morning every day, but Ian was sleeping in later and later. Every morning, Mickey was able to encourage Ian out of bed at some point, but it was getting harder. Mickey was awake, but was still laying in bed, dreading the fact that he wasn’t going to see his favorite person smile today. He wasn’t going to hear his laugh or get to laugh at something he said. Sometimes, he’s not sure if he’s going to get to hear his voice. Ian’s voice is a song to him. It’s what keeps him going. He knows the car will run out of gas soon. And he knew that they were both right. All of the happiness they shared together the past year was just the calm before the storm.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the back door from downstairs open and Lip’s voice greet Debbie, who seemed to be the only other person home. They could hear everything in that house from their bedroom, considering they don’t even have a proper door. Mickey rolled over to his husband and rubbed his temple until his green eyes fluttered open. Two bright, shining emeralds. They were losing their life, but still managed to pull Mickey in and make his heart glow. 

“Your brother’s downstairs. Haven’t seen him in awhile. Why don’t we go downstairs?” 

Ian shook his head. It’s true, he hadn’t seen Lip for over a week. They usually don’t go more than a couple days. And Mickey knew Lip was his favorite person,  _ besides himself, of course.  _ As much as Mickey hated to admit, Lip seemed to be the only person that could see through Ian more than him sometimes. He always knows what to say or what to do. Whenever they have different opinions, he always ends up right. Mickey didn’t know if he envied it or was thankful for him. He just wanted to be right for once. Ian is  _ his.  _ No one else’s.

“C’mon” Mickey encouraged with a soft tone. “It’s getting late, you gotta get up. You don’t have to talk to him. We can just relax at the table and have some coffee, yeah?” Mickey wanted to talk to Lip regardless of Ian coming down or not. He just didn’t want to leave him alone. And he wanted him out of bed. That, and if Ian comes down, he might not have to have that uncomfortable conversation with Lip that he’s been dreading. He doesn’t want to have to tell him that Ian’s hit an episode again, so maybe he can just see for himself. Or maybe Debbie is already telling him right now and Mickey doesn’t have to worry about it. Either way, he didn’t want to see the disappointment on Lip’s face. He doesn’t want to hear about how he didn’t do good enough to take care of him, or what he did or didn’t do. But it’s his brother. He cares about him and he can help. He needs to know.

Mickey put a hand behind Ian’s back, another on his arm. He helped him slowly sit up. Ian leaned his head onto Mickey’s shoulder. Over the span of twenty minutes, Mickey got himself dressed, and helped Ian out as well. He led his husband down the stairs, into the kitchen. Mickey’s arm was around his waist and Ian desperately gripped onto both him and the railing. The redhead collapsed onto a stool and immediately dropped his entire upper half onto the counter, leaning his head on his arms. Lip and Debbie tried helping, Lip greeting them while doing so. He didn’t even say anything or question it. He picked up on what was happening right away and didn't hesitate helping. He gave Mickey a look of  _ ‘It’s okay; he’s strong.’  _ Which gave Mickey a lot of reassurance and relief that he wasn’t mad. Lip put his hands on Ian’s shoulders, rubbing them.

“Hey, doing alright?” He asked with a more comforting voice, knowing damn well what the answer was. Mickey was across from them on the other side of the counter, pouring coffee into two mugs.

“I would’ve told you, but-”

“I know, I know. I wasn’t here. Should've been.” Lip calmly looked up at Mickey. “You get his meds adjusted?”

“Trying to.” Mickey slipped one of the mugs in front of Ian and pushed at his arm.

“Even when we do, it’ll take like two weeks for them to start working.” Debbie chimed in, sitting on one of the chairs at the table.

Ian finally lifted his head up, taking a sip of the coffee.

“We need an appointment at the clinic, but everything’s so strict cause of fuckin’ Rona.” Mickey said, pulling a banana off of the stem.

“Well, you’re still able to get one, right?” Lip worried.

“Yeah, but the process is slow as hell. Healthcare system is shit.” He opened the banana peel, putting it on a plate along with three pills. He placed the plate beside the coffee. Ian just looked up at him. “You’re taking your meds and you’re eating that. And I’m gonna watch you.” Mickey strictly ordered his husband. He didn’t argue. Lip finally sat down on the stool next to his brother. He didn’t take his eyes off of him.

“Can everyone quit staring at me like a freak show attraction?” Ian said, voice sour. Lip retracted his gaze, realizing he made a point.

“Sorry…” Lip apologized. 

“How’s the little one?” Mickey asked, changing the topic to make Ian feel better.

“He’s with Tami. She went to some mommy group thing? I’m not really sure what it is.”

The conversation with the three of them went on for a few more minutes, Ian chiming in occasionally to say no more than a few words at a time. Mickey looked down to see he had gotten all of his pills down. It was the first thing he did. The banana was still mostly there.

“Dude, I said you had to eat it.” Mickey motioned toward the abandoned fruit.

“Tried.” Ian leaned his head on his hand.

“It’s a few bites. I could probably get rid of that thing in two.”

“Congratulations…” Ian sarcastically mumbled, no emotion in his tone.

“Just- c’mon; I said I was gonna watch you eat a fucking banana and I’m sticking to my word. And as much as I would love to mean that in a sexual way considering I haven’t gotten laid in a week, I don’t. Eat up, tough guy.” 

“I admire your dedication to making sex jokes no matter what the situation.” Debbie joked. Mickey raised his middle finger to her from across the kitchen.

"Doesn't mean you should make him feel bad about it." Lip interrupted their jokes and they both shut their mouths quickly.  Ian had a smug look on his face.

"E-" Mickey tried apologizing.

"Maybe just stop talking about me like I'm not in the room. And I'm not a sensitive little bitch either; I can take a joke."  Ian continued to eat his breakfast, taking bites that were hardly noticeable. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter!

It was another family night in the Gallagher house. Mickey was on the end of the couch with the warmth of his husband lying on his shoulder. His arm wrapped around him. Next to Ian sat Lip, who was ranting about everything he hates about his new-ex boss, considering he was already fired after their first interaction. Debbie and Carl took the single chairs, both slumped on a position that made them comfortable. Liam was spread out on the floor next to the couch. He usually got stuck with that, but he didn’t mind. He just wished they had more seats or that he could make it to the ones they had first.

Any time someone would make a comment to Ian, he'd give a very pathetic smirk or nod of the head. He wanted to talk to them, he did, but this depression was making it impossible to do some things- the simple task of talking being one of them. He wanted to at least acknowledge that they were talking. Sometimes a little notion was all he could do. He could work out a few words every once in a while, but it took all of his strength- and he didn’t have much left. He didn’t need to. Everyone understood he didn’t have it in him and they were patient with that. It just really sucked when you needed to know something from him and he’d feed you a couple words and stop talking. 

Mickey tuned out of the conversation to look at the time on his phone. With the hand that was already around Ian’s shoulder, he gave him a slight tap. His orange hair shifted with the turn of his head. The trees and the oceans in their eyes met. Mickey almost forgot what he was going to say, focusing on him for a few seconds. 

“Time to take your pills.” He reminded, hating to ruin the moment. Ian very slowly pushed himself forward, assisted by his husband. Mickey went to get up with him, but Ian pulled out his hand, lightly pushing at his chest with a stop sign.

“I got this.” he whispered, wanting to go alone. The rest of the family continued with their conversation, knowing Ian hates the attention surrounding his current state. They really wanted to hit pause and make sure he was making out fine, but they had to think about it this way- no one would stop talking if anyone else were to get up. So yes, they carried on with their conversation, but they all had an eye open on their brother.

Mickey hesitated letting him go alone. He didn’t want to make the dumb decision of letting a depressed man handle three bottles of pills by himself. There’s also the fact that he barely has the strength to keep himself afloat. But he also knew that Ian wanted to be able to do something on his own. That’s a recurring problem that makes Ian feel terrible every day. If Mickey had the choice to let him feel a little more independent, he wanted to take it. Besides, he trusts him. And it’s just a room away. He could tilt his head back from the couch and still see whoever was in the kitchen.  _ He wasn’t gonna pull a Monica. _

Ian slowly drug himself into the kitchen, his husband keeping an eye on him. When he made it to the other room, his eyes laid on the prescription bottles. He leaned one hand on the counter for support, and grasped one of the containers with the other. He shook slightly.  _ Why is the bottle so heavy? _ He attempted to screw the cap off, but it felt as if someone squeezed the lid closed as far as they could. It didn’t even budge. His body leaned forward, against the counter for support.

His arms were getting too heavy to handle, and the pills felt like they had each weighed a ton. His hand unclasped the orange container and it fell to the ground. Mickey, who was already listening for every penny drop, heard the bottle hit the floor and raced to the kitchen, expecting the worst. Lip followed behind, but stayed in the middle room, keeping his arms out to not let anyone else get closer. 

Ian started to sink to the floor against the counter, a tear streaming down his face. Mickey grabbed onto his arms, trying to slow his fall. He sighed in relief seeing that the bottle was still closed with all of the pills inside. He looked back to his husband with a worried expression, trying to figure out what happened.

“I’m too weak for a fucking pill bottle.” Ian cried. Mickey grabbed his head and pulled it into his chest, leaning his own head on top of his husband’s. Mickey looked up to Lip, signaling for him and the rest of his siblings to leave them be. Lip turned to the three other’s and told them to go away, but he himself refused to leave. Instead, he got closer. He picked up the bottle and returned it to it’s spot on the counter. Mickey shot him another look, this time a bit more agitated. Still holding Ian, he shooed him away with his hand. 

“I got this, get out.” Mickey ordered. Lip didn’t move though. He shook his head and leaned down to them. Ian pulled his head away from Mickey and looked at the both of them once. 

“I’m fine… relax.” He blatantly lied. "I just want to go to bed.”

Mickey softened. Lip got up and took out the three pills that his brother still never took. 

“Don’t forget these. Take them before you go up.” Lip looked to Ian. Mickey looked pissed off.  _ What? Does he think I can’t give them to him? I give them to him all the time; he doesn’t need to see. _ He helped his husband up from the ground and filled a glass of water from the sink. Ian looked at the glass in worry.

“Oh, right.” Mickey realized. He poured half of the glass back into the sink, making it lighter. He gave it to Ian, who took his meds one by one. Ian and Mickey went up to their bedroom and Ian practically collapsed onto the bed. Mickey grabbed the blanket and pulled it over his husband. He rubbed his shoulder and brought his face close to Ian’s. “I love you.” He whispered, and landed a kiss on his head. He pulled away, keeping his hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna go deal with something.” He left the bedroom, coming back downstairs to find Lip alone on the couch. “The fuck was that?”

“Oh, you mean wanting to help my brother? Or the passive aggressive looks coming from his proprietorial husband?” Lip argued back. Mickey let out a chuckle.

“No, I don’t do passive, just aggressive.”

“I care about him more than you do. Let other people help.” Lip barked. Mickey raised his eyebrows.

“What’d you just say to me?” he put his guard up, not liking what he heard.

“You fuckin’ heard me, let us help. You don’t need to do everything. We’re his family.”

“Oh oh, cause for a second I thought you said that you cared about him more.” Mickey let out another sarcastic laugh. “Oh and now I’m not family?” Lip pulled back, realizing he didn’t word what he said correctly. 

“That’s not what I meant, Mick. Just-”

“Don’t fuckin ‘Mick’ me. I only really like when family does that. And Ian? _He’s_ my family. Because you know who’s been taking care of him for the past two weeks and every single episode before that? Me. Who was there when Ian first got sick and took him in? Me! And you know who looked after him and went to every single one of his doctor’s appointments while we were together? You guessed it. Me! Not you. So don’t come at me with that bullshit because I’ve been here for him more than you’ll ever be!”

“You fucked him over in the worst of times! And I’m the one who picked up the pieces. I was there for him too, asshole! I was next to you for everything!”

“No, you weren’t! You were too busy being better than everyone else at your pretentious college getting too drunk you didn’t know where the fuck you were.”

“I was trying to make something of myself, so then maybe I could help  _ your _ piece of southside trash ass. And I’m sober! I got better and I fixed my problems, unlike you! Ian tells you to get your shit together all the time but you’re too lazy to get off your ass and try because you don’t fucking care!”

Mickey dove over the table, headbutting Lip. Lip got up and pushed Mickey onto the couch sending a few hits back, until he was pushed back by his foot, landing on the table. Mickey punched him in the face as many times as he could, sitting on top of him. Lip stopped him by rolling off of the table, pinning him in between the small space of the table and sofa. 

“Are you done?” Lip asked, both of them bleeding and panting. Mickey just nodded, still pissed off. Lip roughly pushed himself off of Mickey, grabbing his coat and slamming the door shut.

Mickey got up and walked upstairs to the bathroom to take a shower. He opened the door and saw Ian on the floor, tears streaming down his face. His arms had cuts all up and down, a few bleeding heavier than others. Mickey crashed down next to him on the floor grabbing his arms. 

“I just wanted it to be over!” Ian wept. Mickey panicked, grabbing the towel he was going to use for his shower to cover up the cuts. He put pressure on them to stop the bleeding. He had picked up a few EMT skills from Ian, but also had a lot of experience from getting into fist fights left and right.  _ Hey, just like ten minutes ago!  _

“It’s okay.” Mickey soothed, trying to stay calm for his husband, even though he was freaking the fuck out.

“What happened?” Ian noticed that Mickey was also bleeding. Mickey had forgotten about the fight, being so alarmed by Ian’s situation.

“Huh? Oh, don’t worry about me. It’s nothing.” Mickey tried brushing it off, not wanting to put more on Ian’s plate. 

“I’m sorry, It’s because of me.” Ian cried, hanging his head down.

“No no, don’t be sorry; It wasn’t because of you! Stop worrying about me, we need to focus on _you_ right now, okay?.” Mickey stressed. After a few minutes, the bleeding luckily stopped, and Mickey sighed in relief. 

“I-I know you want to talk about this… but can It wait until the morning? I’m really tired.” Ian worried.

“I-” Mickey thought, trying to process everything that had just unraveled in the past half an hour. “Yeah. Let’s get some sleep.” Mickey realized how exhausted he was as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Mickey is covering Ian with the blanket I imagine this song playing.   
> https://youtu.be/SXk9DfBiz38 - this song was actually on Shameless in a Gallavich scene :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - mentions of self harm and suicide.

It was 5am and Mickey could not sleep. He drifted off once in a while but woke up practically every hour. He needed a beer. 

He slid out of bed, and sat on one of the stools at the kitchen counter after grabbing a half full beer out of the fridge.  _ God, this Steelberg shit really is awful. _ It didn’t matter though. He just needed some alcohol in his system. He could be drinking rosé for all he cares. A few minutes later, Carl came down the kitchen steps. The two looked at each other confused and at the same time, both spoke.

“What are you doing up?”

“And what happened to you? Jesus.” Carl added. Oh right, Mickey still needed a shower.

“Long fuckin’ story…” Mickey dipped his head down.

“My shift starts at six.” Carl was wearing his uniform. He walked over to the coffee pot. “Can’t sleep? That bad?”

“How’d you know?” Mickey looked up.

“You’re drinking a beer all bloody and irritated at 5:30 in the morning. I was wondering what that blood was from in the bathroom. That’s just common to see random bloodstains in this house though.” 

“About that…” Mickey didn’t even know how to put into words what happened last night. Carl put his mug down onto the counter, getting comfortable. “That’s not my blood.” Carl quickly got concerned.

“Who's is it? What happened?” 

“It’s umm.. It’s Ian’s.”

“What happened?” God, he can be so oblivious sometimes.

“He uhh… last night.” He really didn’t want to say it. He was praying for Carl to pick up what he was putting down. He just looked at him in confusion though. Mickey sighed. “He slit his wrists.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah… shit.”

“Is he okay? Did he have to go to the hospital like Monica? Is he home?” Carl rushed his words.

“No, no. They weren’t too deep. He’s fine. Well he’s not fine. And it’s my fault.” Mickey took another swig of his beer.

“It’s your fault? What did you do? Did you say something to him?” Car got protective.

“S’not like that. After what happened last night, when you guys went upstairs, I took him to bed. I thought he was knocked out, I thought he was going to sleep. I went downstairs and ended up fighting with Lip.”

“That’s why you’re all busted up? I heard some yelling, I didn’t know what was going on though.”

“No fucking shit.” Mickey continued. “I mean I’m supposed to be there for Ian. I had one fucking job and I go and make it worse for him by fighting with his brother. Like we’re the two people he’s closest to- no offense.”

“None taken.” Carl comments.

“I just had to make nice until this dies out, but no. How much of a shitty husband am I?”

“You’re not a shitty husband. What were you even fighting about?”

“I told him to back off when I was helping Ian and he wouldn’t leave us alone or give him space. And then he started saying that I wasn’t family and I don’t care about Ian.”

“What the fuck?” Carl seemed surprised.

“Okay, maybe that’s not exactly how it was said but it sure fuckin’ felt like it.”

“We get into fights all the time. What makes this one different?”

“Because the least I can do for Ian right now is not beat up his goddamn brother.”

“You win?” Carl snooped.

“I don’t know, that’s not the point. Doesn’t matter.”

“So no, you didn’t win.”

“Fuck off.”

“I know, it’s not important. Whenever I have to stop fights on duty I always try to figure out who won. It’s fun.”

“How often do you get those calls?”

“It’s the south side. I stopped counting.”

“But I came back up after Lip left.” Mickey continued his story. I was gonna take a shower and then meet Ian in bed and we were gonna be fine. But I walked in the bathroom and Ian was on the floor with his wrists open. Shit, his whole arms were covered in cuts. I wasn’t there. It wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t leave him to go argue with Lip. I turned my back for five fucking seconds.”

“Look, you didn’t know what he was gonna do. And you didn’t know how long you would be gone or what was gonna happen.”

“No, that’s the problem. I left his side,  _ knowing  _ that I was going to argue with Lip. The fuck is wrong with me?”

“You’re beating yourself up over this. He’s okay, right?”

“Yeah…”

“You guys made it through another day. You’re gonna mess up. Stop making it the end of the world every time you slip.”

“But one little slip up can change everything. What if he cut deeper and I didn’t come back up when I did and he bled out on the bathroom floor?” 

“But that didn’t happen.” Carl tried to comfort.

“What if he killed himself and fuckin’ Franny walked in and saw her uncle Ian’s dead body?” Mickey raised his voice slightly, starting to tear up.

“I-” Carl stopped, getting teary eyed as well “I don’t know, okay? But that didn’t happen. I’m sick of hearing all of these ‘what ifs.’ There’s already too much to worry about. I don’t even care about what happened. Let's just- let’s just focus on what’s going to happen. What are we gonna do now, okay?” Mickey nodded, trying to calm himself down.

“We gotta hide the razors. I don’t want that to happen again. Ever.”

“How are we supposed to shave? How is  _ he _ supposed to shave?” Carl questioned.

“I’ve been helping him shower, he’s got me. That shouldn’t be a problem. Let’s just keep them hidden. And- and I don’t want his medication out anymore either.” Mickey snatched the three bottles, got up, and hid them in the back of a cabinet. “I just can’t believe I what I fuckin’ did. Or what I didn’t do.”

“Mickey. Shut the fuck up. You’re a damn good husband and you’ve taken care of him more than we ever could. Ian needs you more than anyone. And I don’t know what we would do if we didn’t have you. You? You are who he cares about more than anyone in this world and that’s for a reason. He doesn’t turn to us when something’s wrong, he turns to you. He- he would've given up a long time ago if he didn’t have you.” Carl reassured Mickey. And it was damn reassuring. After what Lip said, he felt like he had completely failed Ian. “So stop screaming at yourself for what happened last night, and start patting yourself on the back for what you just did. And what you’re going to do. Because instead of wallowing in pity, you’re gonna pick yourself back up, and when Ian wakes up, you’re gonna be right there. And you’re gonna be an amazing husband.”

“Thanks… I needed that.”

“No problem.” Carl patted Mickey on the shoulder, dumping the remains of what was in his mug in the sink. “Now I gotta get going, but I meant all of that, Mick. You guys are stronger than that.” With that, Carl left out of the front door, and Mickey picked himself up, like Carl said. It’s a new day. He went back to his bedroom, seeing Ian lying down still. His eyes were open, just staring out.

“Hey.” Mickey said, not sure of how to start the conversation. Ian didn’t say anything, nor acknowledge he even walked in. “Why don’t we take a shower?” Mickey walked over to the bed, sitting next to Ian. He didn’t move a muscle.

“I’m so tired. I’m so tired and I want to sleep so bad but I couldn’t sleep.” Ian cried, still not moving his eyes.

“I know. We both need a shower though. It’ll make you feel better.” Mickey comforted. “Why don’t I start the water? I’ll make it warm just the way you like it.” Ian actually seemed to have warmed up to that, which made Mickey relieved. Usually it takes a ton of convincing and dragging out of bed to get Ian to shower, but he looked as if he liked the idea this time. “Yeah?” He got up, and started the shower like he said he would. He wiped down the bloodstains that he missed last night, not wanting Ian to see it. He would be seeing all of the cuts on his arms, so It’s not really like he wouldn’t be reminded of it, but Mickey thought that it would be a bit nicer for his husband to have a cleaner bathroom. He got the towels ready, undressed himself, and helped Ian take his clothes off as well. 

They both got in the shower, Ian leaning most of his weight onto Mickey. He tried to be as delicate as he could with the cuts. Mickey lightly rubbed the soap over each one. He was getting teary eyed at the look of each individual cut. He knew he made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t cry in front of Ian, but maybe he can get a pass when in the shower. You can’t even tell, right?

“Does this burn?” Mickey asked, trying to make this go as easy as possible for him. 

“I don’t mind it.” Ian said, emotionless. He struggled to keep standing, leaning more on his husband.

“It’s okay, we don’t have much longer.” Mickey comforted as he started to wash the blood off of himself. He still was anxious awaiting the moment he’d need to tell Ian about what happened, plus the fact that he needed to talk to him about what he did to his arms. When they were done in the shower, Mickey helped Ian get dressed and he was back to laying on the bed. A few minutes have passed. He didn’t want to rush it, but the conversation needed to happen.

“I don’t even know where to start.” Mickey tried.

“See this is why I didn’t go all the way.” Ian said sitting up, leaving Mickey confused.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t cut deep enough to kill myself. Because as much as I don’t want to admit it I know you love me. And I know Lip does. And Debbie and Carl and Liam and Franny and there’s just so much guilt that comes with that. I wanted to do it so bad. The thought of this endless battle being over is so tempting. I’m so sick of being in survival mode.” Ian ranted. Mickey wanted to say more, but frankly, this Is the most Ian has talked in the past two weeks and he didn’t want to ruin it. He wanted him to be able to get everything that he hasn’t been able to say before off of his chest. “I was so fucking sad when Monica died, y’know. And she messed up my life so much, but I still loved her and missed her so much. I still do. I miss my mom.” Mickey was surprised to hear this. He knew Ian was a bit beat up over Monica when it happened, but he thought he was over it by now. “So the fact that I was so torn from her death, when she wasn't really in my life scares me. Because I don’t want to make any of you feel like that. And then the guilt just piles over more and more and I feel worse and It’s a never ending cycle.” Ian cried.

“I don’t think this is a good way to word it-” Mickey hesitated. “But if you weren’t trying to, y’know, then why were you cutting yourself? I just- I want to understand it, so maybe I can help you more.”

“I had the intent of ending it when I went into the bathroom.” Mickey cringed at the thought. Ian continued. “I had made the first cut, and I saw the blood, and all I pictured in my mind was Monica on Thanksgiving. I was terrified. And so was everyone else. Which is what made me think of all of you, so I didn’t want to do it. Why I kept going, there’s not really a single answer to. The first one had felt relieving. The physical pain distracted me for a moment from what’s going on in my head. And the feeling I had yesterday of not even being able to hold that bottle up- It was so pathetic. I can’t even fucking shower on my own. Being able to cut myself let me know that I could just do that one thing. I was in control. I just want control of myself again…”

Mickey brought Ian in for a hug. “Hey. You’re going to get through this, okay? You. Me. We’re doing this together. Remember how happy we were before this? We’re gonna get there again in no time. You’re the strongest person I know so if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

“I don’t feel very strong.”

“Well you fuckin’ are. You just gotta be reminded sometimes. 

“I was too much of a coward to kill myself.”

“The most cowardly thing you can do is suicide. That’s taking the easy way out. Gallagher’s don’t do that, do they?”

“I just- I'm such a burden. You and Lip got in a fight for a god’s sake last night. It was because of me, wasn’t it?” Mickey opened his mouth to speak, hesitating, but was cut off. “Yeah, I heard it.”

“I love you. You’re not a burden to someone when they love you. That’s what love is; it comes with all that shit. Because I would do anything for you in a heartbeat. Because if I didn’t want to be here, guess what. I would walk out the fuckin’ door and I’d move on with my life. But I don’t want to do that. I’m choosing to stay with you because I love you. I love you and I’m gonna take care of you until you’re better. Every step of the goddamn way, no matter how much you protest.”

“I love you too.” Is all Ian could say back. He laid down, Mickey joining him. Mickey wrapped his arms around his husband. They pressed their foreheads together and stayed that way for a few minutes.

“Why don’t we both try and get some sleep?” Mickey suggested. Ian nodded, and turned around, him being the little spoon for once. Mickey never let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to put a song from the shameless soundtrack that I can feel in each chapter from now on because I admire Ann Kline's work and I have been diving into the music behind that show for awhile now.  
> https://youtu.be/RDgHNbpltho


	6. Chapter 6

A week had passed. Mickey woke up and didn’t feel the presence of his husband in bed next to him and immediately panicked. He jumped out of bed, rushing to the bathroom, only to find it empty. It was steamy and stuffy. He speed walked down the stairs to see Ian flipping pancakes on the stove. He sighed in relief that nothing bad had happened.

“You’ve been making us breakfast every day for the past… I don’t know how long it’s been, but I want to make you something for once.” Ian slightly smiled at Mickey. His hair was wet.

“I mean I usually just pour some cereal or throw a piece of fruit at you but thanks. You take a shower?” Mickey questioned, confused by Ian’s sudden improvement.

“Yeah yeah, I’m trying to get shit done today.” he flipped a pancake.

“Well since it’s a good day, why don’t we take advantage of it and go for a walk or something when we’re done? I know you like running, but fuck no. Do that with Carl.” Mickey walked over to pour himself a cup of coffee, which was already made.

“It’s not a good day. I don’t really have good days. I have bad days and fine days. I don’t feel _good_ , I can just function. And I want to do as much as I can before the light turns off again.”

“Okay well then since you feel fine. Talked to the shrink last night. Got you an appointment in two days. She said to try and get you outside; do a few things you like.”

“Okay, we can do that.” Ian leaned over to kiss Mickey’s forehead. He cringed and backed up, jokingly. 

“Jesus I can only do so much soft shit in so little time. Get your gross ass mouth off of me.” Mickey made his way to the table, waiting for Ian to finish with the pancakes.

“Love you too.” Ian smirked.

“Fuck you.” Mickey joked back, a big smile on his face. He missed his jokes so much. And he missed the life in his eyes. It all seemed to be coming back. He knew some day it was going to get better. The day has finally come. Ian flipped the pancakes onto two plates, bringing them to the table and sitting across from Mickey. “I do love your pancakes.” Mickey looked up at his husband. There were three pancakes on his plate, but only one on Ian’s. “Uhh, why’d you only give yourself one?”

“I’m not that hungry.” Ian said nonchalantly. “I really just needed something to take my meds with. Speaking of which?”

“Oh yeah, uhh, you gotta shut your eyes. Usually you’re in our room when I get them.”

“Seriously?” Ian asked, annoyed.

“Just do it, bitch.” Mickey messed with his red hair. Ian dipped his head down, hands over his eyes, and Mickey reached in the cabinet to get his meds. “Okay you’re good now.”

“You put them in the back of the plate cabinet.” Ian said, looking up.

“I- what? No I didn’t. What are you talking about?” Mickey scoffed.

“I can hear it dumbass.” Ian smirked.

“No the fuck you can't. Come on, that’s not funny. Are you serious?” Mickey chuckled, not being able to help but laugh at it.

“No, I just guessed and magically got it right.” Ian took a bite of his pancake, and Mickey slid the pills into his other hand.

They talked for a bit more, both sitting there with empty plates, finally catching up on things other than Ian’s episode, although that’s really been consuming their lives at the moment.

“I think I’m gonna have to start doing those drug runs again.” Mickey commented.

“Oh shit, yeah. I completely forgot about them. We can both do it.”

“No no, you just have to relax for a bit more. Kev’s been annoying me about them and I really have to start bringing in money. I said we’d take off for two weeks and it’s been almost four.”

“I feel bad though. I don’t want you doing all the work. You’re gonna stress yourself out.”

“I’m already stressed out. I don’t mind doing them actually, I just don’t want to leave you.” Mickey worried.

“I’m fine, Mick. I don’t need a babysitter.” Ian reassured him.

“Right now you don’t, sure.” Mickey commented as Ian rolled his eyes. “Look, you’re doing good right now. If your prescription adjustment acts in your favor over the next week, then I’ll let you join me.”

“You’ll _ let _ me?”

“Yes, I will. Just think of it as me paying you back for all that time I didn’t have a job. Until then, the Gallagher gang can look after you while I'm working.” The back door then opened, and in came Lip.

“Speak of the devil… well one of them” Ian commented.

“Hey.” Lip greeted Ian in an upbeat tone, surprised to see his brother out of bed and not completely miserable looking. He looked to Mickey scornfully, and Mickey reciprocated. They were still mad at each other. Mickey was actually going to apologize, but that was until Lip lost his shit on him after finding out what happened to Ian when they were fighting, just building up more and more tension.

“Just make out already, Jeez.” Ian joked

“Yeah, why don’t we go on that walk now?” Mickey got up, stacking the plates on top of each other to put in the sink.

“You are such a pussy.” Lip looked at Mickey, who was next to him, dropping the plates into the sink. He sharply turned to him, getting close.

“You want to say that again, tough guy?” Mickey threatened.

“Okay okay. That walk sounds great.” Ian got up, chiming in. Mickey and Ian slipped their shoes on that were already next to the door. Mickey went to grab the doorknob, when Ian paused him. “And I don’t give a flying fuck who’s wrong or what they hell you guys are even arguing about anymore, but cut the shit and put on some big boy pants.” Ian nudged Mickey out of the house, both he and Lip having a look of ‘yeah, you’re right, but I don’t want to admit that.’

The two of them had been walking for about twenty minutes, when Mickey noticed Ian’s energy was starting to fade.

“You doin’ alright?” He asked, interrupting the conversation they were having.

“Yeah, yeah. M’fine. Just getting kinda tired.” Ian replied.

“Well you went from running and whatever workout shit you do every day to laying in bed doing nothing. Your body is probably confused as hell.” Mickey half joked, also trying to reassure himself that his husband was fine.

“I just gotta get used to it again.” Ian commented, who wasn’t too sure of that himself. He was starting to feel like total shit again. This is certainly not the first time this happened. He’d get sudden bursts of energy in a depressive episode and then burn himself out too quickly.

“Should we turn around?” Mickey asked, unsure. Ian thought for a couple seconds.

“Yeah, actually. I want to go home.” he admitted.

So that’s what they did. They turned back around, and ten minutes later, Ian was dragging himself along, and they were walking half the speed they were before.

“Why don’t I- just come here.” Mickey grabbed Ian’s arm and brought it around his shoulder and used his other arm to wrap around his husband's waist. “Jesus, how did you change so drastically is the span of a half an hour?” Ian let out a sarcastic chuckle lethargically.

  
“Even I tricked myself into thinking I wasn’t a suicidal wreck for a moment. Ha ha so funny.” Ian said with a lack of emotion. Mickey didn’t laugh. He just looked over to the man hanging onto him in worry and disappointment. Not disappointed at him, just at the fact that he thought things were actually looking up. It was fine though. He had an appointment in two days. He’s gonna go to the clinic and they’re going to fix him.  _ He’s going to be fine. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless song of the chapter - https://youtu.be/ma-PoRLzNN8  
> I hear this one right towards the ends when Ian's light is turning off.


	7. Chapter 7

Ian had been laying in bed for the past two days. A few hours of not feeling so horrible led to a complete energy burn out. While Ian was sleeping, Mickey was downstairs, repeatedly checking his phone for a time that’s right to get him up for his appointment. He wanted to give him all the time he had to sleep, but he also wanted to wake him up early, knowing everything is much slower with him lately. He finally decided it was time to, going up to their bedroom. 

“Hey. You gotta get up. Appointment. Remember?” Mickey said, crawling onto the bed beside his husband. “I know it’s hard but once you’re there, you’re finally gonna get help.” He encouraged, but Ian didn’t move, nor speak, nor even look Mickey in the eye. “Christ, Ian.” Mickey sighed to himself. He started to shake his shoulders, gradually getting rougher when there was still no response from the lifeless body next to him. “Ian!” Mickey yelled, conflicted. He ripped the blanket away from his husband, who was yet to have a reaction. “Get up!” he screamed. No one else was home. He had to do this himself. “You finally have a chance to get help! You can get better! Fucking take it!” He continued to yell at Ian. He pushed at him. “Please! Get the fuck out of bed! I got this fucking slot for you, which was so damn hard and now you’re not even gonna go to it?!” Mickey got off of the bed, coming to the end of it, kneeing the frame in frustration. “All you had to do was get to your fucking appointment. You just needed to do that one thing.” 

Mickey walked out of the room, and into the bathroom. He filled a bucket full of cold water; felt freezing. He came back in, dumping the bucket on his husband, who flinched when it hit him. His eyes squeezed shut and he broke into tears. He was still not getting out of bed. “Jesus.” Mickey sighed at his reaction.

“I… I can’t move.” Ian said very quietly and slowly.

“Well great. Now you’re just laying on a soaking wet bed because of me. Feel refreshing?” Mickey threw his arms up. He kneeled down in front of Ian. “You have to. You have to get to this appointment. Things can finally get better. We can finally fix you meds and get your shit back on track. Do it.” Mickey pleaded, voice shaky. Ian just stared at him, not able to speak again. After a few seconds of silence, Mickey got up, running his hand through his hair. “Yeah, alright.” He said pissed off.

He left the room, going down the stairs to the living room, to see Lip awkwardly standing at the door. Mickey looked down.

“You hear that?” 

“Some of it. Just walked in.”

“I can’t get him out of bed. He has an appointment.” Mickey looked back up to him. Lip didn’t respond, just taking a few seconds to think. “I need your help.” Mickey admitted, apologizing. 

“I know.”

“Can you try and get him up?” Mickey pushed, not caring about Lips cockiness.

“I’m not going to be able to do anything. It’ll just make him feel worse.”

“You have to try.”

“He just wants to be left alone.”

“I don’t give a fuck what he wants! He’s not going to get better doing what he wants.”

“And that’s right, but sometimes we’re not going to win. We’re not gonna win this time, Mick.”

“I… I think we need to get him committed.” Mickey suggested, quieting down. Lip looked at him, surprised. “I think it’s the only way he can get help at this point.”

“Okay. Then we do that.” Lip continued to stay calm.

“I’m so scared though.” Mickey opened up, never really being vulnerable to anyone but Ian.

“I know. We all are. But he’s more scared than you.” Lip said, Mickey nodding. “You’re exhausted, Mickey. You gotta let us help you. You can’t do this by yourself.”

“Okay, yeah,” Mickey sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Just between him having an episode, and having to get back to work, and then having a goddamn fight with you, not to mention there’s a global fuckin’ pandem-”

‘Look I get it. You just have to let yourself breathe. You’ve been so worried about him, but when’s the last time you got a full night’s sleep?” Lip asked.

“I don’t know; awhile.” 

“So get some sleep. We got him too. Why don’t we take him to the hospital in the morning?”

“Should I tell him? Like I don’t know if that’s just gonna make him feel like shit.”

“He already feels like shit. He deserves to know, yeah.”

“Thanks.” Mickey added.

“Of course. You’re family. And so is Ian. Anything for family.” Lip said, turning to the door. “Now get some rest. I don’t care what time it is.” He said before exiting, leaving Mickey by himself. It was so quiet, Ian being the only other person in the house. The silence was screaming at Mickey, which left him to realize even more how tired he really was. 

Mickey over the years has grown to hate the silence. It was no longer peaceful. It was loneliness. It was painful. It was heartbreak. When he heard silence he knew the one person he loved the most in the world had given up on himself. on the world. He had given up on him. He went upstairs to the bedroom, and laid down next to his husband, not caring about the wet, cold sheets. They’ve slept on worse. And at this point, they were so exhausted that anything was comfortable.

“Ian we’re going to take you to the hospital tomorrow, okay?” Mickey paused for a moment. He knew Ian was awake, but could he hear him? “I know you don’t want to, and it’s scary, and you don’t want to go back, but you need to in order to get better…. Can you hear me?” Mickey asked desperately, but did not get a response. _Just say something._ He could be angry. He could rip Mickey's heart apart with the nastiest words in the book and shred him to pieces. Anything but this. _Just say something._ He drifted off to sleep, waking up a few hours later to a crash. Ian wasn’t next to him. He could hear Carl and Debbie talking downstairs.  _ What the hell are they doing? _ But they finally got Ian up, that’s all that matters.

Mickey got up to go to the bathroom, but  _ that’s _ where the crash came from. Ian’s wrists were bleeding all over the bathroom again, but they weren’t light this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless song of the chapter - https://youtu.be/0grMSNnTOFs


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter!
> 
> Also slight 11x07 spoilers, did I not just predict Lip saying Mickey isn't family?! Like it's such a small detail but I find that so coincidental.  
> AND for the 'still yet to come in the season' teaser MICKEY STARTING A FIGHT WITH LIP WITH A HEADBUTT IN THE LIVING ROOM!?

“Carl! Debbie!” Mickey screamed at the top of his lungs. Ian wasn’t able to say anything, his head leaning back onto the wall. Debbie was the first to make it to the bathroom. She looked petrified. Carl soon followed, bumping into his sister, looking equally scared. They both stood at the door frame, staring in shock.

“Oh fuck.” Carl breathed out.

“Oh fuck is certainly right. One of you call a fucking ambulance!” Mickey panicked. He was grabbing at all of the towels within arms reach, trying to stop the bleeding.  _ Why isn’t it stopping?  _

“Hello? I need an ambulance?” Mickey heard Debbie’s voice shake on the phone. He still couldn’t get the bleeding to slow down. It was getting through the towel, coating Mickey’s hands in blood. Crimson red trickled down his arm. He started to panic more, realizing he had no idea what to do. He looked up to Carl, who was watching the situation unravel.

“Don’t just fucking stand there, tough police man. Help!” Mickey ordered. Carl jumped up, realizing he wasn't helping.

“What do I do?” Carl leaned onto the floor next to Mickey.

“I don’t know! I don’t even know what  _ I  _ should do!” Mickey cried.

“We live at 2119 South Wallace… yes the door is unlocked.” Debbie continued the conversation on the phone, right outside of the doorframe, trying to give them space in the tiny bathroom, but still watching her brother carefully. It hurt both her and Carl. Ian was like their superman growing up. He was always invincible. He showed them that they could do anything. But now superman was on the bathroom floor, so broken. He wasn’t invincible anymore.

“Take the other wrist.” Mickey carefully transferred one of Ian’s arms to carl, as he was holding the towels on both of them. “Hold it on as tight as you can and don’t let go.” He ordered, Carl nodding and holding the towel down with his life.

“You okay?” Mickey breathed, putting his now free hand on the side of Ian’s face, running it into his hair. Ian still kept his head leaned back on the wall, but his eyes shifted to meet Mickeys. He looked miserable.

“He’s on umm Lithium, Sertraline… and” Debbie took the phone away from her face “Mickey what’s the name of hi-”

“Perphenazine.” Mickey spat out.

“And he’s on Per-perphenazine.” Debbie stuttered slowly, scared to mess anything up. “No, no, Franny, go back to your room! Turn around!” They heard Debbie call.  _ Oh my god, poor Franny _ . They all thought. Soon, Debbie was also off of the phone with the operator. “I think I should call Lip. He’d want to be here. Tami can look after Franny, and I think Liam is coming home from his friend’s soon. Sandy is still at work so she ca-”

“I’m gonna need you to shut the fuck up! I don’t give two shits what you do.” Mickey continued to panic. A few more minutes went by and Debbie ended her call with Lip.

“Lip is gonna meet us at the hospital and Tami’s coming here. Franny will just have to be home alone for a couple minutes.” Debbie told them. Mickey was completely ignoring her at this point, but Carl turned around and nodded, letting her know he was listening. They heard the sirens outside of their house and the front door opening. Debbie moved to the side to let them through. EMTs took Mickey and Carl’s place slowly, wrapping gauze around Ian’s wrists. He was carried down the stairs and put on a stretcher. Mickey was running, staying right next to his side the entire time.

“Don’t drop him!” “Be careful!” “You’re gonna hurt him!” He kept yelling out. A paramedic turned to Debbie and Carl, who were slightly behind. 

“I’m sorry, but only two of you can ride in the van. I don’t care who it is but decide fast. And you guys are also going to need masks”

“Why don’t we both just go in my cop car? I can turn on the sirens so we can get through the traffic just as fast as the ambulance.” Carl suggested. Debbie nodded and quickly ran back into the house.

“Is he gonna be okay? What are you guys doing to him?” Mickey kept asking a bunch of questions to the paramedics as they brought Ian into the van.

“We’re gonna need you to calm down, sir.” An EMT turned to Mickey.

“Why should I fuckin’ calm down? I don’t see anything calming about this.”

“Your husband?” Mickey nodded. “He’s in good hands, we’re gonna do the best we can.”

“Tha- That doesn’t mean he’s going to be okay though. Why didn’t you tell me he’s gonna be okay?” Mickey questioned. Debbie ran out of the house and tapped his shoulder, giving him a mask, and an extra one, not knowing if Ian needed it or not.

“Me and Carl are gonna be right behind you guys.” Debbie turned to Carl, giving him a mask as well. “Had to grab these and let Franny know that Tami was coming over. She’s probably going to take her to their house because of the bathroom. I shut the door though; I don’t want Franny seeing that. It looks the a murder scene in there.”

“How about a suicide scene?” Carl said, still extremely worried, talking to Debbie, but looking at Ian.

“Attempt.” Debbie corrected. “He’s gonna be okay.” She added, trying to convince herself as well as her brother. “Let’s go.” They went to the car when they saw that everyone was getting into the ambulance.

“Watch your head going into the truck, sir.” An EMT commented to Mickey, who wasn’t watching himself. He had his eyes glued on Ian.

The paramedics put IVs into Ian’s arm. Mickey watched in confusion and worry, squeezing his husband’s hand. “What’s that for? Why does he need more shit in his arm?” He asked, wanting to know every possible detail of what was happening. 

“The patient’s bleeding is severe, so we’re giving him fluids.” An EMT informed him.

“His name is Ian.” Mickey barked. How did Ian work in this environment? It’s terrifying. Mickey had never been in an ambulance before and he never wanted to be in one again.

“His blood pressure is dropping!” One of the paramedic’s called. The person talking to Mickey immediately turned around and helped out. “He’s losing too much blood!” Another paramedic said. Mickey could feel his heart getting heavier, a drum pounding in his chest, through his throat, and out of his ears. 

Ian liked to lay on Mickey’s chest and listen to his heartbeat. It was the metronome to his song. But now the tempo is way too fast. He couldn’t even keep a steady heartbeat for his husband.  _ And that makes two of them.  _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless song of the chapter - https://youtu.be/FujMOQTeQWE


	9. Chapter 9

Guilt.

It grew louder and louder, consuming Mickey. He was sitting in the waiting room of a hospital because of what he had done. The blood was on his hands. It consumed him, picking apart every piece he had left. It wept and it had cried, screaming for Mickey’s attention, clawing it's way up his spine. It wrapped around him, tightening him to the chair. He couldn’t move out of its grip, holding him down. It was a tsunami and he was just a droplet of water. It poured over and drowned him until he suffocated.

_ Guilt _ is what Mickey had felt.

They had rushed Ian into the emergency room ten minutes ago, which felt like hours to Mickey. They wouldn’t let him past. He watched them take him down the hallway and he couldn’t be there with him. Mickey kept kicking himself in his mind.  _ You couldn’t just fucking check that there were no razors out before you went to sleep like the lazy piece of shit you are? Takes two seconds. You couldn’t wait until someone else got home? _ Mickey wondered who left their razor out when he was very specific and strict that they couldn’t. Why did he think that the Gallagher’s could pull their shit together? He was right. He couldn’t trust anyone else to take care of Ian. He fell for the trap of getting some rest and letting others help him for three hours. This is what happens when you trust other people. This is why if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. 

This is how it’s always been and how it always will be. Why did Mickey ever think that he could rely on someone? It’s bullshit. And now he sits next to the people that betrayed him, waiting to know if the love of his life will be okay. His leg bounced up and down, still covered in blood. The sliding doors beside him never stopped moving. They sounded like they were slamming together and Mickey felt he was going to explode and rip them off of the wall. Lip walked up to him, a tray of coffees in hand.

“It’s getting late.” Lip looked down to Mickey, moving the tray closer to him. “Figured we could all use some coffee. You must be exhausted.” Mickey just looked at Lip. His leg continued to bounce. He was slouched, leaning on his elbow with his unwashed hand over his face. It was lathered in dry blood. Lip took a coffee out and put it beside Mickey’s chair. He then gave Debbie and Carl coffees, taking one for himself as well. He sat next to Mickey. “Why don’t you go get some air? Take a walk?” he suggested, pulling his mask down to take a sip of coffee. He made a disgusted face.  _ Hospital coffee. _

“Why don’t you shut the fuck up?” He snapped, realizing he was a bit loud, having many people turn around to look at him. You can only fill a small balloon with so much air until it pops. He quieted down. “They could call us at any moment. There’s no way I’m missing that,  _ no way.”  _ Mickey worried.

“We’ll call you as soon as something happens, if it does.” Lip encouraged.

“Fuck no. I’m not leaving.” Mickey didn’t even consider it.

Twenty minutes later, a nurse came out, saying Ian’s name. Mickey shot up, practically running to her. 

“Ian is stable.” The four of them sighed in relief. Mickey almost even had a tear escape. “You’re his husband?” The nurse asked, turning to Mickey.

“Y- yeah.” Mickey responded.

“We’re gonna take you back to Ian’s room, you can help him out with answering some questions about the history of the current situation, medical problems, medications, social history. Is that okay with you?”

“Yes, yeah, I can see Ian?” He rushed.

“So we can’t see him? We’re immediate family.” Lip asked.

“You can shortly, but this is something more private.” The nurse informed him.

“Fucking private…” Lip mumbled under his breath as he turned around with his other siblings, Mickey being brought back. 

Mickey entered Ian’s room. The drawers were locked and the medical supplies were secured.  _ Jesus, he’s not crazy.  _ Mickey looked to his husband, lying in a hospital gown, IVs going through his arm.  _ Why does he look so pale? _ He walked over to Ian, who’s eyes were just barely open. Mickey leaned over carefully, hugging him. 

“You scared the shit out of me.” He said shakily, sighing. He looked at his wrists, which were bandaged up. “What did you do?” 

“His wrists were cleaned and stitched up. Should take a couple weeks to fully heal.”

After Mickey had a conversation with a social worker about Ian, they had brought a psychologist in, which honestly scared the shit out of both of them. She did a p sychiatric evaluation and had recommended Ian be admitted as an impatient, which made Mickey feel sick even though they were going to do that in the first place. Hearing it from someone who actually knows what the fuck they’re talking about makes it real. It’s déjà vu, him getting committed when he first got sick. They have to do it all over again. Back to square one. No matter how much progress Ian made, he’d just get sucked back by his illness. It was a never ending battle you were guaranteed to lose.

“I can bring back Ian’s other family now if that’s okay?” The nurse asked.

“I don’t give a fuck.” Mickey mumbled, looking at Ian. He realized he’d want to have his siblings there. “Yeah…” He corrected himself, speaking clearer. When the nurse left, he took one of the chairs and brought it next to Ian. He sat down and held his husband’s hand, and saw one of the staff members sitting outside of the door. “Hey, can you back the fuck off?” Mickey shouted. The man turned around to him.

“It’s my job to  ensure the patient doesn't leave until they are deemed safe for discharge, sir.” He informed, turning back around.

“Well he’s not alone, he’s got me.” Mickey responded. When he didn’t get a response he brushed it off, continuing to hold Ian’s hands, fidgeting with his fingers. “How you holding up?” Mickey asked. Although Ian didn’t say anything, Mickey still got a response. Their eyes met and Mickey was told everything he needed to know. “Okay, okay.” Mickey softened. He leaned over and placed a kiss on his forehead, running his hand through his hair when he sat back down. “Go to sleep.” Lip entered the room, followed by Debbie and Carl.

“Is he awake?” Lip asked, looking at Mickey.

“He’s tired. Just leave him alone.” Mickey turned over. Lip’s eyes shifted over to Ian.

“He okay?”

“What kind of fucking question is that?” Mickey argued. They were silent for a moment. “He’s going to the impatient program once a spot becomes available.”

“How long is that going to take?” Debbie asked.

“Not sure. Anywhere from a few hours to a few days. But he’s not allowed to go home. He has to stay here until they can take him.” 

“I called Liam, if you give a shit.” Lip told Mickey.

“Don’t.” Mickey scoffed.

Debbie and Carl sat down on the two available seats. Lip leaned against the wall to sit on the floor. Three hours went by. They mostly just relaxed, Carl and Debbie falling asleep. Every once in a while somebody would ask Mickey a question. A nurse finally came in, Mickey and Lip perking up.

“We have a bed available at our psychiatric facility. We can transfer him now.”

“How does that work? I can go with him, right? Can I go with him?” Mickey asked.

“We’re going to take him there ourselves. We got it from now on. You can go home and visit your husband there in the morning.”

“But I don’t want to go home. I want to be there with him.” Mickey worried.

“You can’t do that sir-”

“Don’t tell me what the fuck I can’t do!” Mickey raised his voice, waking Debbie and Carl up.

“Sir, you’ve done a great job taking action and calling the ambulance. We can take care of him now. Get some rest.” The nurse ensured. Lip came behind Mickey, putting his hands on his shoulders.

“Come on, Mick. She’s right. You can see him first thing tomorrow.” Lip tried to get Mickey to calm down.

“Yeah but last time I left Ian’s side _ that _ happened.” Mickey motioned to Ian, voice breaking.

“They’re professionals, Mickey.” Carl commented, getting out of his seat. Mickey’s shoulders dropped as he took a breath out. He grabbed his jacket roughly, and left the room.

“Fuck this.” They all watched him storm through the hallway, bumping into someone and getting even more frustrated.. 

“Thank you.” Lip turned to the nurse. He walked over to Ian, who was barely even conscious, having just woken up. He put his hand over his upper arm. “Hey, we’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Ian nodded. “Love you.” Lip left the room, the other siblings saying goodbye as well and following him.

They met Mickey in the parking lot. He was leaning against Carl’s car, waiting impatiently for him to unlock it. Carl and Lip got into the front, Mickey and Debbie in the back. 

“Get some sleep. And get your shit together.” Carl turned to Mickey before starting the engine. Mickey rolled his eyes. He leaned on the door, heart racing. It never slowed down from the moment he woke up, really. Is this how Ian feels? He was in a constant state of anxiety. 

“You need to relax Mick. We’re scared too.” Debbie put her hand on Mickey’s shoulder.

“I’m sick of everyone telling me to relax!” Mickey whacked his hand out in fight mode, making Debbie flinch. “Until you can show me Ian fully recovered and back to himself, I’m not gonna calm down, so I suggest you back the fuck off.” He just wanted to come home to Ian waiting for him. He wanted to lay down with him in their bedroom, feel his warm touch, hear his calming voice, drift off to sleep in his arms. But he was sucked back into reality when the car shifted. He looked out the window, seeing the glowing hospital sign. The 'A" had lost it's power. It started to rain. Droplets of water streamed down the window. Carl had cracked it open, giving Mickey some air. He let the raindrops land on his face; it felt refreshing. He watched each one splatter onto the surface and fall. That’s how he felt. He was getting thrown onto the wall and people got to watch him fall.

The rest of the car ride was silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless song of the chapter - https://youtu.be/zbpbeYr6X4Q


	10. Chapter 10

Mickey woke up to Franny tapping him on the shoulder. Debbie had moved to the front seat of the car and Lip was gone. 

“We’re home, Uncle Mickey! Wake up!” she sat upright on her knees in the seat, turned to him.  _ Christ, he felt like shit. _

“What time is it?” He croaked.

“Almost 2 AM.” Carl looked at his phone and stretched his arms out. “What a day.”

“Thank god it’s Saturday. Franny, you still got to get to bed.” Debbie turned back, looking at her daughter. They all got out of the car.

“I want Uncle Ian to take me to bed again. I like when he does it!” Franny jumped enthusiastically. 

“No Franny, I’m taking you to bed tonight.” Debbie sighed.

“No! I want Ian! Now!” Franny whined, stomping her foot to the ground.

“Ian’s not here right now, why don’t I?” Mickey took Franny’s hands above her head from behind, walking her inside.

“Where is he?” Franny asked as they entered the house. They were met by Liam, swiftly standing up from the couch and walking over to them. He started to hit Carl on the chest, him being the first one inside.

“You left me home alone for hours not knowing what’s going on with my brother!” He fought.

“Alright, alright! I’m sorry.” Carl stopped Liam's hands. 

“Well? What’s going on?” He questioned impatiently.

“Take Franny upstairs, will you?” Carl turned to Mickey.

“Guess what? You don’t need to brush your teeth tonight!” Mickey lifted her over his head, taking her up the stairs while she laughed in joy. No matter how pissed off or tired he was, he always put on a happy face for the little one.

“Why is the bathroom door closed? She asked as Mickey pushed her past it and into her room.

“We’re making renovations to it to sell, remember?” Mickey placed her on the bed. “That means we’re making it look pretty.” She nodded.

“Is that what Uncle Ian was doing in there?” 

“Uhh, yeah.” His voice cracked. “You weren’t allowed in because it’s top secret stuff, you know? It’s only for the house people to see.” He lied, opening her drawers and pulling out a striped, oversized t-shirt. “How about this for bed, huh?” Mickey tried changing the subject.

“Where is Ian now?” She asked again.

“He’s umm… he went on a trip. To talk to the top secret house people.”

“A trip?”

“Yeah. Like- like a vacation.” He stuttered.

“I want to go on a vacation! Why didn’t he take me with him?” Franny pouted.

“Up.” Mickey told her. Franny lifted her arms and he took off her shirt, tossing the other one to her. “You can put on your own goddamn shirt. Top secret, remember?”

“So why does he get to know when I can’t? And you and Debbie and Carl know?” she wouldn’t drop it.

“Cause it’s adult stuff. You’re not an adult, are you?”

“No…”

“So end of discussion. How was hanging out with Tami? What’d you do?” Mickey sat on the bed with her, pulling out her hair tie.

“We watched a movie and we colored. And I got to play with baby Freddy!”

“Oh yeah?” He started to braid Franny’s hair. “What’d you watch?”

“The Little Mermaid! Tami told me I look just like her because we have the same hair and eyes.”

“You do? She must be a very pretty princess then.”

“She is! I like Merida better though. She’s the other princess with red hair, but she doesn’t really want to be a princess which is why I like her more. I didn’t know you could braid?” Franny questioned, seeing it in the mirror.

“My sister Mandy used to braid her hair before she went to sleep sometimes. She had really pretty waves from it. I watched her do it a lot, so I picked up on it. I’ve rarely done it myself though. If my family caught me doing this they’d kill me.”

“You have a sister?” Franny glowed.

“Yeah, yeah. I miss her. She left town years ago.” He finished up her braid.

“I want to meet Mandy.” She turned her head to face Mickey.

“Yeah? Maybe one day. She’d like you.”

“Mickey.” they were interrupted by Debbie coming in. “Bathroom.” She held a bucket and two sponges.

“Oh right, right.” Mickey frowned at the reminder. He turned to Franny. “You gotta get to sleep, red.” 

“Mommy always ruins everything!” Franny pouted.

“No no, I had to get going anyway. I have to sleep too. But I just gotta get some of that top secret bathroom work done first.” Mickey comforted. Debbie looked at him confused. “Goodnight, little mermaid.” He commented as he left the room, turning the lights off.

“Merida!” Franny corrected, yelling to the hallway. 

He walked down the hall with Debbie, getting to the bathroom. His chest dropped at the sight of the closed door. He knew what was behind it. He wasn’t ready to face it. 

“You okay?” Debbie noticed the fear in his eyes.

“No. But let’s do this shit.” He grabbed a sponge and opened the door. His brief moment of bravery quickly ended when he was met with the scene. There was so much blood. Blood of the man that he has loved for the past ten years. The man who he would die for in a heartbeat. The man who would die for him in a heartbeat. The man who his heart beats for. And the man whose heart beats for him.

“I can ask Carl to do it? Mickey?” Debbie placed her hand on his shoulder again. He didn’t protest this time.

“N-no. I want to be able to do this. I want to be strong for Ian.” Just saying his name made him want to burst into tears. He stood at the door frame, stiff, holding them in.

“You don’t have to be right now. You don’t have to be strong every second of the day. You can break the ‘tough guy Milkovich’ act for a minute. We’re your family too, you know? We got your back.”

“All this talking, not enough cleaning.” Mickey walked into the bathroom, getting on his knees. Right where he was when Ian was sitting there, helpless with his wrists bleeding on him and all of the bathroom. Right in the position he was when he was panicking, being useless. He turned his head to Debbie. “You coming?” He said it more as a statement. They began wiping the floor, the first minute quiet. All you could hear was the back and forth friction between the sponge and the floor, the puddles of blood being swept, the oozing of the soaked sponge into the bucket. 

“Liam said he was gonna order us food. Me and Carl are starving and I’m sure you haven’t eaten anything in awhile.” Debbie finally started the conversation, trying to distract them from what they were doing.

“‘Y’know, this isn’t very appetizing.”

“Right, right.” Debbie awkwardly continued to clean, moving her sponge onto the side of the shower. She had picked up the razor Ian used from the floor. “I guess we should throw this out?” Mickey lifted his head to see what she was talking about. 

_ The razor was his. _

Ian wouldn’t have tried to kill himself if he hadn’t left his razor out. It was his fault. He would still be here at home if it wasn’t for him. He could be relaxing with his family eating whatever the fuck Liam ordered and watching a movie if it wasn’t for him. He’d be in his arms, stroking his fingers over his knuckle tattoos. He had spent all this time blaming other people for not doing enough when it was him who fucked up. Although this is a fuck up he can’t go back on. Sure he made it through, but that’s not something you can just forget about.  _ Oh god,  _ Ian probably hates him. The only person in the world that he cares about hates him. His entire family probably hates him too. Debbie is gonna realize she was holding his razor and she’s gonna lose her shit and kick him out of the house. This is it. This is the moment that everything comes crumbling down and-

“Mickey?” Debbie noticed he was staring in horror, not responding to her question. “You okay, Mick?” He opened his mouth before words could form, stuttering.

“That’s…” He broke into a cry. Debbie dropped the razor back onto the floor and brought herself to sit next to Mickey. She sat where there was still blood on the floor, but she didn’t care. She had never seen Mickey like this before. He was always the toughest guy she knew, still is. He didn’t  _ do  _ crying. She wrapped an arm around Mickey, rubbing his shoulder. 

“It’s okay.” The situation felt so unreal. Sure, he cried once in a blue moon when he was just with Ian, but  _ this.  _ She was expecting him to break, just not in front of her. Mickey Milkovich was crying in her arms on the bathroom floor.

“I fucked up.” Mickey choked.

“You didn’t. You’re exhausted, Mickey. You wouldn’t have left it out if you were taking care of yourself and you got some sleep. It’s not your fault. He would've found something if you left it out or not.”

“And I scared him off with the whole looney bin talk. He flipped out and had a psychotic break last time I told him he was getting committed. I should have known.”

“He’s sick. You can’t control his actions no matter what you say or do. You don’t think I’m beating myself up for not watching over him? Me and Carl were home for like an hour.” Debbie started crying with him. “We could’ve stopped him. And I fucked up before too, okay? Remember when Ian flushed his pills? I was supposed to be watching over him that day and I didn’t see him because I wasn’t paying attention. I had one job! But he got better. And got back to his normal self. And he felt happy again. Things are gonna get better again, okay? You have to trust me on that. Some days are gonna drag you down and it’s gonna feel like you took two steps back after the one step forward, but you just have to keep going. It doesn’t remain that way. And they’re gonna take really good care of him in the hospital, alright?” Mickey just nodded. “You need to get some sleep. Now. Go to bed, and me and Carl will take care of this. That’s not a suggestion. Do it. You’ll be refreshed to see Ian, y’know? And he needs that right now. So if you’re not doing it for yourself, do it for him.” Mickey stopped protesting, knowing that they were never going to stop telling him to get some rest. And as much as he hated to admit it, he was absolutely emotionally and physically drained. He didn’t need to though, it was obvious.

He calmed down eventually and got to he and Ian’s room. He didn’t bother getting undressed and collapsed onto the bed. He brought the blanket up to his face.  _ It smelled like Ian _ . With the scent of his husband he broke down again. He kept seeing him on the bathroom floor. Hearing the sirens. The IVs. The locks. The beeps. He hated how big the bed felt. He hated that when he opened his eyes, he didn’t see his husband’s angelic, freckled face. He couldn’t reach out and stroke his hand through his hair. He couldn’t lean over and kiss his rosy lips. He couldn’t watch him peacefully sleep beside him. He couldn’t feel his tender touch, his warm embrace, which never fails to make him feel whole. And now that he is without all of that, he’s never felt emptier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless song of the chapter - https://youtu.be/Vt-LmZb9JbE


	11. Chapter 11

Mickey woke up to the empty bed he fell asleep with. His face felt dry from his own tears. He had never cried himself to sleep before.  _ There’s a first time for everything, I guess. _ He rolled over, twisting the blankets in his legs to get to his phone. He had finally gotten some sleep.  _ 2:23 pm.  _

“Holy shit.”

Too much sleep. Why did no one wake him up? 

“Oh my god. Ian.” Mickey realized. He jumped out of bed, rushing to the bathroom. The slide door got caught from his rapid tug. He groaned in frustration and brushed it off. He took a shower, washing the reminders of yesterday away. He had taken out a new razor.  _ He didn’t deserve to use this.  _ Ian liked when he was clean shaven though- and so did he. He wanted to brave through it for him. What is he even talking about? Trying to victimize himself... He had to shave at some point. He was getting too sensitive. What kind of a Milkovich was he? He didn’t even want to look. He was disgusted with himself. He was horrified at the sight of a razor.  _ His razor. Ian’s blood. His fault. _ He shook his head, letting the water fall onto his face, trying to shake off his thoughts.

He put on Ian’s favorite shirt of his, a maroon flannel. Ian wore it himself a lot as well. He also put on black ripped jeans. He wasn’t too much of a fan of them himself, but Ian liked to point out how they accentuated his legs . Anything to cheer his husband up. He threw a jean jacket on over it. Maybe the nurses would let him give it to Ian. Mother fucker is always cold. Really he just wanted him to have it so he could have a piece of Mickey with him, but that too.

He came down the stairs leading to the kitchen, expecting everyone to be there.  _ Where the fuck is everyone?  _ The kitchen that’s usually the most haywire room in the southside was empty and still.

Liam was lounging on the couch, watching some vapid cartoon. He turned his head to the noise of Mickey coming down the stairs.

“Where is everyone?” He asked, very confused.

“Carl is at work, Debbie’s at the park with Franny. I think Fr-”

“Hold up. We’re supposed to go see Ian and she decided she wanted to play at the park? And why didn’t anyone wake me up? Visiting hours started at eleven and I wanted to be there first thing. Ian probably feels like we ditched him; I said I’d-”

“Debbie told me to tell you that visitors aren’t allowed because of Covid.” Liam informed. Mickey paused for a moment.

“W-what?”

“We’re not allowed. Only phone calls. Oh, also, there’s some pizza in the fridge from last night.”

“I don’t want pizza, I want _ Ian _ .” Mickey’s voice broke.

“You don’t think I’m mad too? I didn’t get to see him yesterday, let alone even know what was going on, and now I can’t see him for another seven days.”   
  


“Seven days- they’re keeping him for a week?!” Mickey stuttered, not expecting the length. What happened to seventy two hours? Over and done. Quick. 

“I thought you knew this.” Liam seemed threatened by Mickey’s aggressiveness.

“No, dicklick, I was asleep!”

“We all tried waking you up, but you were out of it. Debbie said you were sleep deprived.”

“What am I supposed to do for a week?”

“Call him. I talked to him a few hours ago… well kind of.”

“H-how did he sound? Was he okay?”

“He didn’t really sound like Ian. It was weird.”

“Was he sedated?” Mickey asked. He cringed at the word. It just reminded him of how awful the first round was. He remembered it clear as day. Ian walked up to him and Fiona, that awful yellow outfit. Made him look even paler than he already was. 

Yellow was supposed to be this happy color that gives people serotonin and sunshine but Mickey only associated it with bad memories. The mental hospital, prison.

_ Mickey hated the color yellow. _

His eyes were completely dead, bloodshot with bags and dark circles under them. Ian was so out of it. He didn’t even want to talk to them. He couldn’t make eye contact or pay attention to what they were saying. His voice was slow, airy. Not the Ian he knew. Not his boy.

“Not that I know of?” Liam responded to him.

“Then what do you mean ‘it didn’t sound like him?’”

“He just sounded really sad. He wasn’t really talking that much. Said he was exhausted and he loved us. The conversation didn’t last very long. He had to leave to go to group therapy.”

“Group therapy?” Mickey choked. “No way group therapy is helping him. He doesn’t want to hear about other people’s problems, he needs his own problems fixed.” 

“He said it was mandatory. Maybe he’s more awake now since it’s later in the day. Try calling him.” Liam suggested. 

“It doesn’t work like that, kid.” Mickey sighed. “He’s always tired. Depression doesn’t give a shit what time of the day it is. He’s sick. I’ll try though. I need to talk to him.”

“Is he gonna be okay?” Liam asked. That’s such a vague question. No? Yes. Both? “When you say sick does that mean like a fever or like cancer?”

“What kind of a fuckin’ question is that? Aren’t you the smart one?” Liam was still looking at him, waiting for an answer. “It’s not like that. Think of like Corona, alright? So not everyone that has it actually feels sick, right” Liam nodded, confirming for Mickey to continue. “So Ian will always have bipolar, but he only feels sick sometimes. It comes and goes. And right now he feels sick.”

“If he still gets sick, then what does his medication do?”

“They didn’t explain this shit to you?”

Liam raised his eyebrows in a way that said ‘ _ were they supposed to?’ _

“Well it’s like the vaccine. It protects you most of the time, but sometimes the virus is too strong and slips by it anyway. So if he didn’t take his meds, he’d be sick all the time.”

“That makes sense.”

“And the mental hospital is equal to a physical hospital. All that shit took me years to understand.”

“He went to this place before, right?”

“Yeah. You were too little to remember. Just- just don’t worry about it, he’s fine. I’m gonna go talk to him.” He whipped his phone out, and called the hospital. He did all of the fake greeting bullshit and transferring and he finally heard Ian’s voice. Mickey was alone, back in their bedroom by now.

“Hi.” Ian said into the phone. Liam was right, he sounds miserable.

“Hey. Hey, it’s me.” Mickey tried to sound uplifting. God knows what he’s going through. “I’m sorry we can’t visit… fuckin’ Rona ruins everything, right? You gotta wear masks and shit there? Were you all separated or something in group therapy?”

“Masks aren’t allowed. They have strings.”

“Oh right, yeah, figured that, yeah.” Mickey completely forgot about those restrictions. He tried to change the topic awkwardly. “How was group therapy anyway? Liam told me you had to leave for that earlier.”

“Fine, I guess. A bunch of people bitching about their lives. I wasn’t really listening though. Hard to pay attention.”

“You have to do that bullshit on the tv shows where you introduce yourself and everyone’s like ‘ _ hi, Ian,’ _ and then you talk about your life story or something?” 

“That’s rehab. They got to me and I just said I had suicidal thoughts. I didn’t have to share that much. I just had to participate a little.”

“What’d they say? Give you any useful advice?”

“Fuck no. They were like  _ ‘what are those thoughts saying? _ ’ and I just said  _ ‘I don’t know, kill yourself? _ ’ It’s all bullshit. Just a bunch of ‘ _ How does that make you feel?’ _ I know how it makes me feel, I want to know how to not feel that.” Ian complained into the phone.

“Yeah I don’t really think group therapy is for you. Just a shit ton of drugs could do the trick. You're forced to do that though, aren’t you?”

“Yeah… pathetic.”

“As in _ you’re _ pathetic or  _ they’re _ pathetic?”

“Both? I don’t know. I hate all of this.”

“I know, I know, but it helped you last time. And with our lack of money and shit insurance? The only way you can get help is trying to kill yourself and getting forced into the hospital.” There was a pause, Mickey not getting a response from Ian.

Too dark. He remembered what the check in lady had said. “ _ It’s recommended that conversations stay light and upbeat.” _

__ “Guess what? I’m wearing your favorite shirt.” Mickey tried lightening the mood.

“The flannel?”

“Yeah, I even unbuttoned it a bit. And I have those jeans on you can’t shut up about.”

“Wish I could see them.”

“You can see them when you get out. Six more days to go, real soon.”

“Yeah, real soon…” Ian repeated him sarcastically. 

“How’d you sleep?” 

“Didn’t.”

“At all?” Mickey worried. 

“Don’t like it here. You’re not with me.”

“Try to get some sleep, okay? I know it’s weird and you’re not used to it, but if you don’t sleep, you’re just gonna feel even worse, if that’s possible...”

“I’m not really choosing to not sleep. It’s scary, being here a second time. It feels like when I first got diagnosed all over again.” Ian said. Part of Mickey was grateful he wasn’t allowed to visit. He wouldn't have to go in there and relive six years ago. He didn’t think he’d be able to. But he’d still rather be talking to his husband face to face in there over this bullshit. “Look, I gotta go.”

“Where are you going now?”

“Sleep. Like you said. Or I’m going to try to.”

“Oh okay.” Mickey was disappointed in the conversation ending so quickly, but he was relieved to hear that he was trying to take care of himself. Baby steps. “I love you. Call me whenever you want.”

“Love you too.” Ian hung up the phone. Mickey took a second to let out a big breath of air. He had been holding it the whole time. He put his phone to his heart.

“Fuckin’ Gallagher.” He rubbed his eyes. “I need a beer.”

And so he got one. And another, and another. Soon it was eight o’clock and Mickey was on his seventh beer. He left the house, no one else being around, and drove up to the hospital. He stumbled out of the car, marching into the building. He leaned his weight on the sliding door, making it move faster, and walked up to the front desk.

“Excuse me sir, you’re going to need a mask.” The lady expressed her concern. “Are you checking someone out?”

“Sure, I’ll check my husband out when you bring him out. Sexy piece of ass. Where is he?”

“I’m sorry? Is your husband a patient?”

“Where’s Ian? I need to see him..” He overdramatically pressed his finger onto the desk.

“Sir, is there a problem?” A bulky security guard walked up from behind him.

“Yes, there is a problem, I want to know why these people think they can keep me from Ian.”

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave, sir.”

“Fuck no! I’m not leaving until I see Ian. He needs me!” He tripped over himself and steadily tried to balance.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“Have  _ you  _ been drinking? How can you not get drunk living around here?”

“Are you going to leave or am I going to have to call the police?”

“Oh, fuck you!” Mickey raised his voice. The security guard reached into his pocket, but was interrupted when Mickey threw a punch at his face. He hit him a few more times until the guard pushed him to the floor. He hovered over him with handcuffs, but Mickey kicked his foot out. The guard leaned over and Mickey pushed himself up, ramming his body into him. He pushed him against a bulletin board, papers flying everywhere. Mickey slipped on one of them, grabbing a bin on his way down. He threw it at the guard, but he whacked it away. The guard pulled him up by his shirt, ripping it in the process, and pressed him against the wall.

“You think that was a smart move, tough guy? You thought you could take me on?” The guard asked, Mickey’s face pressed to the side, his whole body being shoved. 

“I need to see him. Fuck you, bitch!” Mickey still tried fighting, but couldn’t get out of his grip.

“You’re not special. No visitors. Now the police are coming and your ass is gonna go to jail.”

“I’m on parole!” He panicked. “Ian’s never gonna forgive me, you gotta call it off. He needs me to take care of him.”

“You should've thought about that before you came stumbling in here and threw yourself at a security guard.” A few minutes passed and the police showed up, shoving Mickey in the car. His face was bloody, his hair was a mess, his shirt was ripped.  _ Ian’s favorite shirt.  _

“Goddamn Milkovich. You couldn’t go two years without getting into trouble?” The police officer asked.

“Without getting caught.” Mickey corrected, spitting out of the car before the door got slammed shut in his face.

…

Mickey had been sitting in the station for what had felt like days. It was getting close to midnight and he was scared shitless. He was going back to prison and he couldn’t do anything about it. Last time he went to prison, Ian’s Mania got so bad he landed next to him. He had one fucking job and it was to be there for Ian. 

They had let him have some water to sober up. He still felt like absolute shit. He reached the stage of intoxication where he really didn’t want to be drunk anymore. His head ached, he wanted to throw up, he couldn’t see straight, think straight, stand up straight. He leaned his head against his arms, sighing in frustration. He looked up though to see an officer putting a key into his handcuffs, unlocking them.

“You’re free to go.”

“Huh?” Mickey sat up, confused.

“You’re lucky; you’ve got some powerful friends.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Just get your ass out of here, Milkovich. And stay out of trouble. We might not go so easy on you next time.”

Still confused, he got out of his chair, and left the police station, Carl was waiting outside, leaned up against his car.

“What the fuck, Mick?” Car looked pissed.

“I don’t want to hear it.” Mickey rolled his eyes.

“I don’t give a fuck what you want to hear. You got trashed. You could’ve been arrested for just driving in the first place! You went to the fucking hospital? Fought with the security guard? What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Too much is wrong! Jesus, Carl, give me a goddamn break!”

“I did give you a break by getting your ass out of here. You would've been on your way to prison if it wasn’t for me. Why do you think they were keeping you there for so long? You’re on parole, Mickey-”

“You don’t think I know that?”

“What were you thinking then?”

“I wasn’t thinking! You’ve done dumb shit in your life, _ I _ don’t get on  _ your _ ass about it.”

“Because I’m not the one breaking parole! And I’m not just gonna watch you drink your problems away. Too many people in my family have already done that.”

“Why do you give a shit so much, huh?  _ You’re  _ not the one fucking me.”

“Because you’re family. Whether you like it or not. And Ian needs you. He needs you here, not in prison.”

“Yeah...I know.”

“Then get in the fucking car.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless song of the chapter - https://youtu.be/7Xm5I6cmf2U (during the fight)


	12. Chapter 12

Six days had gone by and tomorrow Mickey was finally going to see Ian’s face. He missed him more than anything. This had possibly been the slowest week Mickey ever experienced. He started working for V and Kev again to help the time pass by, but he also needed the money. He had barely gotten to talk with Ian. Every time he called, he’d rather be unavailable or wasn’t feeling well and the conversation lasted no longer than a few minutes. They had just switched out his medication though when he got there, so it was going to take two weeks for him to adjust to them. He’d be tired and have a shit ton of other side effects bringing him down until then. But now he doesn’t have to talk. Mickey can see him after today, and that’s all that mattered. He finished his shift and got home to everyone in the kitchen. The four siblings, plus Tami, Franny, and Fred.

“Uncle Mickey!” Franny ran out to the living room and jumped on him when she heard the door open.

“Hey Mickey, I ordered us White Castle. You hungry?” Debbie leaned back from her spot in the kitchen.

“Starving.” Mickey responded. “C’mere, red.” He picked Franny up, swinging her towards the kitchen. He was in a good mood for the first time in awhile. Ian is getting out tomorrow, he’s getting better, and things are going to go back to normal. Soon enough, they’d even have their own place. He will admit, it’s weird living with the Gallaghers without Ian. Last time he had to leave home for more than a day, Mickey didn’t live with him. So it was unusual to be around Ian’s family-  _ his  _ family without his special Gallagher. They talked and ate dinner together for around ten minutes when Mickey got a call from the hospital. It made him smile. Mickey was always the one to call Ian. 

“Everybody shut the fuck up, Ian’s calling me!” Mickey shushed everyone, and they all got quiet, knowing it was about Ian. Normally they would continue to talk over him, but when they know it’s important and about family, they zip their lips without hesitation.

“Ian!” Franny yelled out, wanting to speak to her uncle.

“Shh. Be quiet, it’s important.” Debbie hushed her. Mickey walked out into the living room, trying to disconnect from the rest of the family for a moment.

“Hello?... Yes, this is Mikhailo... What?... Wait what happened?... Is he okay?” The family all listened in, growing more concerned with each sentence Mickey spoke.

“You want to  _ what? _ ... It’s up to  _ me? _ ... Fuck no. Absolutely not. I’m bringing him home tomorrow and I’m going to take care of him. You guys clearly failed to do your job.” Mickey got choked up. _ That’s not a good sign… _

A few moments later Mickey ended the phone call and stormed over to the table, grabbing his jacket. His eyes were red and irritated. He turned to go up the stairs, but was interrupted.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Lip stopped him. “Tell us what the fuck is going on.” Why can’t they just leave him alone for one second? You can never get a moment of peace in this house.

“They- they wanted to keep him there. I told them no.” Mickey was on the verge of tears.

“Why? What’s wrong with him?” Debbie asked.

“She said he wasn’t sleeping and his body was rejecting the medicine they gave him for it and they’re worried he’s going to go into psychosis because his episode is so severe.” Mickey spit out quickly, worried. Liam looked petrified. Didn’t Mickey tell him he was going to be okay? This sounded serious. What’s psychosis?!

“Wait why did you say no? He needs help.” Lip responded.

“Because they obviously couldn’t help him!”

“You think you can do better?!” Lip got angry, matching his volume.

“I haven’t seen him in a week!”

“Neither have we! That was selfish as fuck, Mickey. Why didn’t you ask us first?”

“Because it was up to me and I panicked and he clearly needs something better than what they were giving him. Group therapy? Gallaghers don’t do therapy. Who the fuck do they think they’re treating? And how much longer do you think our shitty insurance is letting him stay there?”

“It’s all we have left. You act like this was our first resort. What else is there to do?”

“I- I don’t know.” Mickey’s voice broke. “He said he was getting better. He said he was taking care of himself.”

“Well he lied.” They both calmed down. “You know Ian. You know he hides that shit to keep you from worrying. And knowing that all of this is over the phone, he can hide it a lot easier.”

“That’s why I didn’t want him in there. I wouldn’t have wanted to get him committed if I knew that I couldn’t see him or they’d keep him for a fucking week. I had to wait a week to get him and now they want to keep him for longer?”

“What’s your plan, Mickey? What are you going to do when you bring him home and he loses his shit because he’s not getting proper care, huh? And that’s not an ‘if,’ that’s a ‘when.’”

“I don’t know, jackass. I’m sorry I don’t have a full plan like you, Mister genius. I don’t see you giving  _ your  _ plan. I learn this shit along the way just like all of you fuckers. I’m sorry I don’t have the experience from my drug addict, batshit crazy mom, like you.”

“And Terry’s much better? Fuck you!”

“No fuck  _ you!  _ You discredit everything I’ve ever done for Ian. I work my ass off and do every little thing I can to help him and you just brush it off because to you, I’m still a dumb, trashy, southside thug. Guess what. You are too, bitch!”

“He needs help! This isn’t about you!” 

“I’m going to get him help! I’m tired of you acting like you’re so much better than me or your ideas are smarter than mine or you know Ian more than I do. You don’t!” There is a moment of silence.

“Ian is staying in the hospital.”

“Fuck you.” Mickey barked, maintaining his temper for the moment.

“E is in the hospital?!” Franny shouted in confusion.

“We’ll talk later about it, okay? Go upstairs for now.” Debbie turned to Franny. She listened to her mom, turning back as she went up the stairs in worry. The room was silent until she completely went away.

“I miss him too, okay? I want to see him too. We all do. Think about what’s best for him, alright?”

“This is what’s best for him.”

“It’s not.”

“Did he tell you that?” Mickey waits for a response, but doesn’t get one. “S’what I thought.” He turned back around to go up the stairs, not being stopped this time. 

…

It was the next morning and Mickey and Lip we’re waiting in the hospital for Ian to come out. Regardless of whether or not Lip agreed with Mickey’s decision, he still wanted to be there to see his brother and best friend. The tension between Mickey and the security guard was painfully obvious. Lip was going to ask, but didn’t want to stir up an argument as Ian came out of a week long hospital stay. They had gone over everything with the nurse, hearing a lot of  _ “are you sure?”  _ Yes, he was fucking sure.  _ Was he? Yes, of course he was sure. _ All they had to do now was get Ian and bring him home. He came out in the change of clothes Lip brought him last week at the ER. His other outfit was in a baggy, covered in dried blood. Mickey walked up to him, squeezing him tighter than he ever has before.  _ God he missed this.  _ Ian lightly hugged him back, and he stayed in his husband's hold for a while. Mickey buried his head into Ian's shoulder and squeezed at his hair. He told himself he wasn’t going to cry and he was trying damn hard. 

“I missed you so goddamn much.” Mickey’s voice was muffled, as he was still holding onto Ian for dear life. He eventually let go, and Lip came closer to give him a hug as well. He only held it for about five seconds, seeing that Ian was tired. And  _ oh boy could you tell he was exhausted.  _ His dark circles contrasted to his pale skin. His eyes were lifeless and bloodshot. His shoulders slumped and he could barely keep himself up straight.

“Why don’t we head home, alright?” Lip rubbed his brother’s shoulders. He just nodded in response, but who knows if he even knew what he was just responding to. He looked so out of it.

They borrowed Tami’s car. Lip got in the driver’s seat and Mickey went in the back with Ian. His back was against the door so he could sit sideways, letting Ian lean onto him. The car ride was mostly quiet. They didn’t want to overwhelm him or make him talk when he clearly didn’t want to. Mickey played with his hair, running his fingers through it, twisting it

“I’m gonna make an appointment for you at the clinic when we get home.” Mickey said, breaking the silence. He was talking to Ian but it was meant for Lip to hear. “We’re gonna get you on new meds, cause whatever those fuckheads put you on clearly aren’t doing you any good.” He turned his head towards Lip. “You know some medications can actually make you worse?”

“Yeah. That happens sometimes.” Lip kept looking forward at the road.

“It has one job. And all of the side effects are literally what you’re taking the pills for in the first place. What the fuck is the point?”

“Not all medications are a perfect match. One person could have a great reaction to the same prescription that makes the next person ten times worse.”

“Well shouldn’t the shrink know what to put you on? They should know their patients, right?”

“Scientists don’t have everything figured out yet. This is still kinda new. They didn’t really start prescribing this stuff until like the 1950’s.”

“Yeah, thanks Einstein.” 

Soon enough, Lip was pulling in front of the house. Mickey jolted his shoulder and tapped Ian lightly. 

“Hey, you awake?” He leaned forward, trying to see if his eyes were open.

“Mhm” Ian mumbled. “I’ve been awake for days.”

“C’mon.” Mickey helped him sit upright and get out of the car. He could barely keep his eyes open and treaded his feet up the stairs. “Why don’t we go to sleep? I could definitely go back to bed. Woke up early to get your drugged up ass.” Mickey rubbed his hand on Ian’s chest, his other arm around his waist. Half for support, half because he needed the contact with his husband that he’s been deprived of. 

“I can try.”

Mickey brought him up to bed and they both exhaled in exhaustion. 

“Missed you in bed with me. Want me to be the big spoon?” Mickey asked him but was already wrapping his arms around the taller man. 

“Yeah.” Ian melted into his embrace. Holding him in Mickey’s arms was something he so desperately needed. The blanket was cocooning them and their bodies intertwined. He gently rested his head onto Ian’s, smelling his hair. He didn’t try to hide it anymore. He didn’t care. All he cared about was that the world was in his arms and he never wanted to let him go. He didn’t want to let go because he knew the second he went away his sides would ache for his husband’s touch again. He squeezed him a bit harder, not ever wanting this feeling to end. This feeling of completeness and warmth and electricity. He liked feeling his breath rise and fall against his chest. Mickey eventually drifted off to sleep, soaking in the moment. 

Ian though, was still counting sheep. For over a month all he did was sleep and now he couldn’t get a second of it. He couldn’t turn his mind off. His thoughts were taking over, not letting him catch a breath. Being in Mickey’s arms made him feel safe. The demons were still there, but his husband created a barrier that they struggled to push through. His eyes felt heavy and his head throbbed and pounded, screaming for help. He just wanted to sleep. One hour even. Something to give him a break. But soon enough it was hours later and he felt Mickey’s weight shift. He was waking up, meanwhile Ian didn’t sleep a wink. What kind of cruel joke was this? The world was fucking with him. Or was it God? Is he mad at him?  _ What did he do wrong? _

“Hey hot stuff.” Mickey hovered over him and kissed his temple when he saw Ian was awake. “You get any sleep?” Ian let out a sigh.

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless song of the chapter - https://youtu.be/uzS3WG6__G4 or https://youtu.be/MZzxBkt--0U for when they're in bed together. In conclusion I'm emo as fuck.


	13. Chapter 13

Two days had gone by since Ian was brought home. He was able to get out of bed with Mickey being his cheerleader, but both days he ended up lying motionless on the couch just like he would've in their bedroom. Mickey took a lot of convincing to still go to work. He didn’t trust anyone, not even the hospital, to look after Ian anymore. Every time, they had failed to keep him safe. Mickey couldn’t take care of him, his siblings failed to protect him, and he came out of the hospital no better than he was before. Mickey walked out from the kitchen with a sandwich and some medication. He sat next to Ian on the couch and placed the plate on the table in front of them. 

“Last day you gotta take these and then tomorrow we go to your appointment and get them changed. They better work or I swear-”

“I’m not eating that.” Ian was very stern with his response.

“What?”

“I know what you did to it.” Ian moved farther away from him on the couch, gravitating towards the door. 

“The fuck are you talking about, Gallagher?”

“You poisoned it. You want to knock me out? Or kill me? Where are you taking me?”

“No one did anything to your food, man.” Mickey’s voice raised in pitch, confused over what Ian was saying.

“You expect me to believe that? I’m not dumb.” 

“Yeah, just a bit crazy.” Mickey chuckled and went to put his hand on Ian’s shoulder, but it was whacked away. 

“Don’t touch me!”

“What the hell are you doing?” Mickey went into full worry mode.

“I’m not falling for your tricks. Who told you to do that? Did God? Is he mad at me for the gay Jesus thing?”

“Why are you talking about God? Where did that even come from?”

“Or did you decide to do this yourself? Who’s working with you? Is anyone else in my family trying to poison me? Or did you swap out my medication for something else to drug me?”

“Jesus fucking Christ I-”

“Stop saying that! God is already mad at me; you’re going to make him kill me! What are you gonna do? Are you gonna hurt me?” He leaned back onto the couch, gripping the sides.

“God isn’t mad at you!”

“”Yes he is! He told me!”

“He told you?”

“Yes! I haven’t heard him talk to me since before I went to prison.”

“Maybe because you were off your rocker, genius.”

“No, that was when I stopped taking these meds that turn my brain into stew. They’re controlling me. That’s what they’re for. And they implant these ideas in my mind that make me believe that I actually need them and they’re helping me when in reality, they’re just making me do-”

“ _ Reality?  _ One day you need to wait and you’re getting help, okay? You’re going to the clinic tomorrow and they’re fixing you.”

“I don’t need to be fixed!”

“Well something in your head does because you’re fuckin’ delusional.”

“Ignorance is bliss, Mickey. Ignorance is bliss.” Mickey turned to walk away, giving up on trying to convince him and was hit with the pill bottle. 

“What the fuck was that for?” 

“I need the fumes away from me. It’s still poisoned. If I inhale them, I’ll pass out. That’s your plan isn’t it? You can’t trick me!” He picked up the plate as well, but before he could throw it, Mickey latched onto it, keeping it grounded. 

“Calm down!” Ian jumped away from him and off of the couch.

“Stay away from me!” Mickey still did not listen, walking around the couch to confront him. Ian ran to the baseball bat and held it in front of him.

“Put the bat down!” Mickey put his hands forward, not moving from his spot in the living room. Ian's back was towards the front door until he heard it open. He spun to face the noise and saw Lip walk in. He didn’t drop the bat and still kept it up, ready to swing. Lip’s facial expression immediately turned into panic. Ian kept turning back and forth, making sure none of them were moving. 

“What the hell is going on?” Lip questioned. Ian’s eyes were wide and he stumbled over his feet as he tried backing up the stairs.

“Don’t fucking move! You’re working with Mickey aren’t you?” Ian interrogated his brother.

“Working with- for what?” Lip put his hands up.

“Did he send you?”

“Mickey? No I come over-”

“Not Mickey! You know who I’m talking about.”

“Ian, just put the bat down. Let’s talk.” Lip tried to calm him down. Ian came back down from the steps and brought the bat below Lip’s chin.

“Aren’t you reading my thoughts anyway?”

Mickey snuck up from behind him and pulled his body away from Lip’s. Ian swung the bat in the air, only hitting the couch. Mickey fell backwards to the floor with Ian and gripped him from over his arms so he couldn’t move them. Lip dove in, and tried tugging the bat away, but Ian’s grip remained strong on the handle. He pulled and hauled on the bat while Ian furiously kicked, his arms still restrained from Mickey. Ian was yelling in rage and panic. Lip finally got the bat away from him and threw it out onto the front lawn for the time being so Ian couldn’t get to it again. He continued to squirm in Mickey’s hold and soon lost energy, realizing he was never going to break free from him. He leaned fully into his husband’s chest and broke into tears.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Mickey tried to comfort.

“Please don’t do this.” Ian cried.

“We’re not doing anything. We’re just keeping you safe.”

“I don’t want to be poisoned.”

“We’re not poisoning you. You need sleep.”

“Were you poisoning me so I could sleep? Please don’t hurt me.” Ian pleaded.

“Ian how many times-”

“Mickey.” Lip interrupted him. He looked up from the floor. “He thinks it’s real and you can’t change his mind. Just stop.”

“It  _ is  _ real.” Ian argued.

“What do I do then?” Mickey worried.

“Get him help.”

“I am. We’re going to the clinic tomorrow.”

“No. Do something today.” Lip ordered.

“I’m not going to those monsters. You don’t know what they’ll do to me. They’ll put chips in my brain and they’ll cut me apart. I’d rather go back to prison.” Ian refused.

“You took him out of the hospital too fucking early. Next time actually listen to the professionals.” Lip continued to argue with Mickey.

“I want to sleep.” Ian croaked.

“I-I know. Can you take some medicine to help you?” Mickey pushed.

“No. No medicine. I can’t do medicine.” Lip looked at Mickey with his  _ ‘I told you so’ _ face. 

“Look, I’m gonna call his doctor. Now. As soon as I get Ian to bed.” Mickey returned to Lip’s gaze.

“So do it.” Lip turned to walk out of the door. 

“You’re just gonna leave him? What a fuckin’ help, thanks. Brother of the year.”

“I’m taking a smoke, asshole, save your comments. Do what you said you were gonna do and we’ll talk.” He continued out of the house, slamming the door, making Ian jump.

“You’re fine. Relax.” Mickey rubbed his shoulders. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? I’m gonna get you help.”

“I don’t need help.” Ian argued.

“Is that so?” Mickey got up and reached his hand out to help Ian, but he got up himself, purposely refusing the contact.

“And I don’t want to sleep here.” Mickey sighed at how complicated everything was. Ten years they’ve been together, six years he’s been sick. Shouldn’t he know what to do by now? Every time something happened, it was always unexpected. You could never prepare for it. Wherever you think you know enough, something new appears.

“Why not?” Mickey tried to keep himself collected. Arguing with him clearly didn’t work. 

“It’s not safe.”

“What makes you think it’s not safe?”

“You’re gonna do something to me if I fall asleep.”

“What am I gonna do?”

“I-I don’t know. Kidnap me. Hurt me. Steal my thoughts.”

“What the he- look. I can tell you that I’m not going to do that, but if you really don’t believe me, where can you sleep so that you’ll feel safe? Want me to ask Kev and V? Do you trust them?”

“Y-yeah. That could work.”

“Yeah?” Mickey’s voice lightened in relief. Finally they were getting somewhere. As they walked out of the door, Lip stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“Shut the fuck up I’ll be back in a second.” Mickey brushed him off, not wanting to deal with his bullshit. Lip just sat back down, knowing they weren’t going far. He walked over to the house two doors down with Ian and knocked on the door. They always just walked into each other’s houses but Mickey still didn’t feel too comfortable with it. Plus, it’s Kev and V. You never know what the hell they’re doing and he didn’t want to walk into some kinky shit while his mentally ill husband struggled to keep himself up next to him. Ian still didn’t want to lean on him, so his weight shifted onto the railing as they waited for someone to answer. Kev finally opened the door and his face lightened, not expecting the visitors. 

“Hey guys! Why’d you knock? You know you can come in whenever you want.” Kev greeted them and V walked up from behind, looking out to see who it was. 

“What’s going on?” V automatically worried, seeing how sick Ian looked, how frazzled Mickey was, and knowing what they’ve been dealing with. Kev knew too, but he was a bit slow. 

“Ian needs to sleep here for a little bit.” Mickey looked at them desperately.

“Huh?” Kev asked, confused by the statement. Ian looked down, still leaning against the railing. 

“Are you alright, babe?” V poked her head out, looking at Ian.

“He needs some sleep. And I don’t know if he’s gonna get any but he needs to lay down.”

“Is it too loud over there? Cause our girls are coming home soon and it’s not gonna be much better.” V said to Mickey.

“No, he’s used to sleeping with noise. He’s um, he doesn’t feel safe at home right now.

“Nowhere in this neighborhood is safe, dude.” Kev commented.

“Not that kind of safe.” Mickey spat out. They both just raised their eyebrows, waiting for further explanation. 

“Just come in.” V suggested before Mickey spoke again.

“I don’t think I should.”

“Why not?” V asked.

“If you let me fuckin’ talk, maybe you wouldn’t have so many goddamn questions.” Mickey got annoyed. “Can Ian go in though?” They both still looked confused.

“Well we just told you to come in. What do you think?” Kev stepped aside, giving Ian an entryway. Mickey rubbed his husband’s shoulders and nudged him inside. He just awkwardly sat on the couch, still on edge. Kev and V both turned back to Mickey.

“He’s slipping into psychosis and I wanted to call his doctor while he slept, or at least took a breather, but he doesn’t trust me so he doesn’t want to sleep in our house.”

“Hypnosis?” Kev asked.

“Why doesn’t he trust you?” Vee continued the conversation, ignoring Kev’s misunderstanding.

“He just flipped out on me, saying that God sent me to poison him and then threatened to hit me and Lip with a baseball bat. We had to tackle him down.”

“What the fuck?” Kev raised his voice and turned to Ian. He flinched at it.

“Kevin, keep your mouth shut.” V growled through her teeth.

“You got what I mean though?” Mickey asked, now that their attention was back on him.

“Yeah, I got it.” V reassured him. 

“Absolutely not.” Kev… definitely did not reassure him.

“Look, he just doesn’t have his head screwed on right. He might sound irrational, but he’s more scared than you. Just go easy with him. I’m calling the shrink as soon as I get back and he’s gonna get help.” Mickey informed Kev. He loosened up a bit, starting to pick up what he was saying. “Just keep him safe?” 

“Of course.” V nodded.

“Yeah, I got him.” Kev looked down at his arm and flexed his muscle.

“Yeah I’m gonna need none of that. You can put that away.” Mickey sarcastically commented.

“Oh.” Kev covered his arm back up with his t-shirt sleeve. “Well, if it’s necessary.”

“You hurt him one bit, I’m gonna make sure you regret it.” Mickey threatened.

“Hey!” V broke the tension. “There’s gonna be no violence in my house tonight, alright. Not with my baby Ian.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I meant like, holding him down.” Kev clarified. He looked back over to the redhead with his head down on their couch, making sure he wasn’t listening. He was in another world though. 

“I just want him to try and sleep and ma-”

“We got him, Mickey. You can go. He’s in good hands.” V comforted.

“Alright.” Mickey nodded hesitantly. “Thanks.” They closed the door as Mickey turned around and headed back towards the Gallagher house. 

“Uhh, why did Ian just go into Kev and V’s house?” Lip asked as Mickey walked through the gate.

“He didn’t want to sleep here.” Mickey told him as he took the cigarette out of Lip’s hand and took a drag. “Said he’d feel safe there though.”

“Okay. Now what?”

“You know, you’re constantly asking me what to do next and then whenever I have an idea you shut it down because yours is better.” He handed the cigarette back, not having enough energy for another argument. “I’m gonna go inside and call his doctor and she’s gonna tell me what to do.” Mickey crossed him and went up the stairs to go inside.

“Wait.” Lip stopped him.

“What?” Mickey whined.

“Sorry.” Mickey raised his eyebrows, not expecting an apology. “I know this is hard. And I put a lot of pressure on you. I shouldn’t expect every decision you make to be right.”

“Yeah and not all of your decisions are right either, big shot.”

“Exactly. Can we just figure this stuff out together? No more decision making without talking about it first?” Lip compromised and Mickey hesitated to answer.

“Fine.”

“Thanks. Now go call the psychiatrist.”

“Yeah, yeah. Right.” Mickey got distracted from the conversation and stumbled into the house. Mickey Milkovich and communication didn’t really fit in the same scenario. He was just learning to do it with Ian before he crashed. He actually kind of liked it. Sometimes though, it required admitting he was wrong. Not so much of a fan of that part.

A half an hour went by and Lip was still waiting on the steps, not wanting to interfere with Mickey’s phone call. He finally came out with a beer and sat next to Lip.

“How’d it go?” Lip asked him.

“She said it’s most likely a side effect from the medication that they gave him at the hospital. The psychosis is also probably the reason he wasn’t reacting right to the other medications they were loading him up with.” Mickey opened up the beer and took a swig. 

“Alright. So what do we do?” Lip asked, gazing at the bottle.

“If all goes to plan, he goes to his appointment in the morning, she gives him a new prescription, he gets better, happily ever after.” Mickey noticed Lip’s staring. “You want me to put this away? He swirled his drink.

“Oh, no, you’re fine.” Lip snapped out of his stare. Did she sound like the delusions were a big deal?”

“Not really. But that’s also kinda her job to stay calm. That and she works around that. She deals with lunatics for a living.

“Dude, come on. Your husband is one of her patients. Shouldn’t you be more understanding and not call them shit like that?”

“Eh, he knows I don’t mean it. That’s all I care about. It’s an over exaggeration.”

“Well some people don’t see it that way.” Lip took a drag of his cigarette.

“What, are you all sensitive about it?”

“Kinda.”

“You smokin’ them pussy sticks this whole time out here?” Mickey tried changing the subject.

“On and off. Should we call V and ask her if Ian is okay with coming home?”

“Let’s start with if he’s awake.” Mickey took another sip of beer and took a long breath of Lip’s cigarette, melting into the exhale.

“Pussy sticks, huh?” Lip noticed his relief.

“Yeah. Now shut the fuck up, will you?” He pulled out his phone and ringed V. 

“Hey, Mick.” She picked up.

“Hey, how’s Ian doing?”

“He’s getting along. He got concerned with me about twenty minutes ago. Said my eyes had gone fully black. He’s half asleep on the couch though. How long has that boy been up?”

“I have no idea. He wasn’t sleeping in the hospital and every time he tried to sleep here, he’d just lay there.”

“Should I give him some melatonin? You know I got all the goodies.”

“No no, don’t offer him anything. I don’t want him to think you’re trying to poison him too. He won’t take it.”

“So you’re asking me to just watch him suffer?”

“I ain’t asking you to do shit. He’s going to the clinic first thing in the morning. His doctor will handle it, alright?”

“Nurse V can’t try to help him relax?”   
  


“What kind of gross shit are you thinking of?”

Not like that, Mick, calm down. I’m like his mother!”

“He’s a grown man.”

“Not to me. He’s my baby boy. I watched him grow up. It’s my motherly instinct to take care of him.”

“Yeah I don’t really give two shits about your mommy care or whatever you called it. If you think he’s falling asleep, could he stay there for a little bit?”

“That shouldn’t even be a question. He’s family. Always welcome.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll call you if anything happens.” V ended the call and Mickey hung up his phone. He shoved it into his pocket and rubbed his eyes.

“What’s going on?” Lip asked, who had been patiently waiting for the call to end. 

“Apparently V has solid black eyes.” 

“Goddamnit, that’s not good.” Lip sighed and leaned into his hands.

“But he’s practically asleep, so he’s just gonna stay there and they’re not gonna bother him.”

“So what happens when he wakes up?”

“V said she’ll call if anything happens. I’ll call her in a few hours and ask for updates if she doesn’t give us any. And if he’s awake I’ll have her talk to him and see if he trusts us enough to come home.”

“And what about getting him to agree to go to the clinic?”

“That’s a battle for tomorrow.” Mickey stood up, placing his hand on Lip’s shoulder, and turned to go inside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless song of the chapter - https://youtu.be/afhgE2RMFL4

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic that's not a one shot :)  
> Any comments are deeply appreciated!


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